Sins of the Father
by Emily Bowden
Summary: POST COG: The werewolf coucil member has been assassinated, leaving Luke to serve as temporary replacement. Jace & Alec are leading a trial hunting party of Downworlders/Shadowhunters while an unknown villian is threatening Clary. Rated M for lemons.
1. Prolouge

**My first fanfic, so be nice!**

**Summary: This is the story of what happens after COG. The werewolf council member has been assassinated, leaving Luke as his temporary replacement. Jace and Alec are running a trial hunting team of Downworlders & Shadowhunter, and someone is plotting against the Clave.**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Prologue

The air smelled like sunlight and juniper. A crisp breeze ruffled through the trees, causing the leaves and blades of grass to dance happily about. The flowers were in full bloom and the sun cast a gentle warmth upon the ground.

Idris was beautiful.

Jace was content. More so then he'd been for quiet some time. He was lying comfortably on the blanket he'd spread for their impromptu picnic by the lake. The warm sunlight seeped through the branches of the tree he lay under, the grass cool and misted with dew.

It was a perfect day: his love by his right side, comfortably asleep. He glanced down at her and smiled.

The sunlight gleamed off of her sleeping body, capturing her just right to reveal the perfect highlights of her hair: golden and copper mixed with a fiery orange.

She looked beautiful. She looked peaceful; peaceful as the day, peaceful as the gentle breeze, peaceful as the ripples slowing coming off the lake, peaceful as he felt.

Clary moved slightly, moaning gently as she slumbered, her right hand joined her left under her chin.

It was his idea for a picnic by the Mortal Glass, aka Lake Loryin. And Clary had been excited at the prospect of some much needed down time.

It'd been six months since the war against Valentine's army of enslaved demons. The aftermath had been hard for everyone to deal with, more so for Clary. That time had been trying on her, for so many reasons. Her father, Valentine, had died that day. For all intense and purposes, so had Jace. Only the Angel Raziel's appearance to Clary had changed his fated outcome. She'd saved him that day, but the harsh reality of what could have been plagued them both for a long time after.

So, today had been about them and their celebrated reunion together with the hopes for a long, happy life together. Once they'd reached to shores of Lake Loryin, he'd laid out a blanket along the beach, and spent hours kissing Clary. She had fallen asleep little less then fifteen minutes ago.

He was happy, happier then he had been in all his life. And she was an instrumental part of his bliss.

The Lake rippled and slight movement caught Jace's attention. He looked toward the Lake and was taken by surprise. What he saw standing there had taken him completely off guard. He completely stopped breathing, stopped moving and stopped thinking all together.

He was motionless, his heart dropping in the pit of his stomach. Tears welled behind his eyes as he stared dumbfounded and entranced.

Its hand stretched out him, inside it a gift. Was it meant for him? He didn't know.

Words would not come.

All he could do was sit, stunned, and listen to it speak.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**This story is supposed to be part of a trilogy, depending on how well it is received. **

**Welcome and enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 1 Lingering Time

Chapter 1

It had been six months since Clary had jumped through the portal to Idris. Six months since she had witnessed Jace's death and the subsequent destruction of her psychotic father, Valentine. Six months since she'd discovered that Jace, the boy she had fell in love with, was not her biological brother, but had no relation to her at all. And during those six months, she'd been completely happy.

The Accords were resigned, creating a stronger pact between Downworlders and Shadowhunters then had ever existed before. There were Council members representing each family of the Shadow World; the Children of Lilith, Night, Fey and Moon.

Jace and Clary had presented their version of what had happened by Lake Loryin the night Valentine, Clary's father and Jace's adopted childhood father, had died. They were completely honest, only the details of the Angel Raziel's appearance had been slightly altered. Clary had decided that the information that the Downworlders were souled, and thereby valuable to heaven, as instrumental. She and Jace, however, failed to mention that both of them had been _poisoned_ with Ithuriel's blood, thereby giving both of them incredible abilities that exceeded other Shadowhunters. Only a select few would be granted that knowledge, but they both agreed that it would be best to keep that tidbit of information away from the Council for now.

The Clave, of course, knew that Clary was able to create ruins, ones that were not in the Grey Book given to the Nephilium by the Angel Raziel himself, but ones as old as Heaven. She had created the rune Alliance that bound a Shadowhunter to a Downworlder, allowing them to share their powers. With the aide of her rune, they'd defeated Valentine's thwart of blood thirsty demons he'd enslaved with the purpose of destroying the race of Shadowhunters, giving him the ability to start anew with the Mortal Cup.

It had been a long six month in many ways, for both Jace and Clary. Jace had a hard time after the battle. He was trying to understand who he was and what he wasn't. He was _not _the son of Valentine; he was _not _poisoned with Greater Demon blood, and he was _not _Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern.

He was the son of Stephen Herondale, a man he had never met. He had been poisoned with the Angel Ithuriel's blood, which was not a disastrous as it'd seemed. And he was…Jace _Lightwood?_

It was still hard for him to grasp the change, seeing if the new name fit or not. His adopted family, of course, was more than willing to bestow him with their name. They'd always thought of him as much, a Lightwood thru and thru. But the fact that he'd never really been given a rightful name made his adopted one feel different, unfamiliar and was a harsh reminder of the truth.

Clary was trying to offer her support, trying to comfort him everyway she could. For the most part, she was successful. It's just that she had a lot to contend with herself.

She was in full Shadowhunter training, a daunting and trying task in and of itself. She was challenged with much that a younger Shadowhunter had years to prepare themselves for. The training had been intense, causing her to second guess herself at every turn. She was able to handle the markings given to younger Shadowhunters and she was able to handle the seraph blades. The fighting, however, had been more difficult. She was strong, but her muscles were not conditioned the way they needed to be for fighting. Her body was constantly aching and throbbing after having a full day of combat with older, highly trained Shadowhunters. And she didn't know how much more she could take.

Jace would help in her training, as he would when they returned to New York. She felt even more tired after he fought with her. He'd challenge her in ways that her other trainers would not, making her leap higher, bend further, and fight with one blade while he had two. She appreciated it, but always had a distinctive urge to kick his ass by the end of the day.

Yes, it had been a long six months and she was ready to leave for home. She missed the smells of New York City; the pizza cooking from the local pizzeria down the street, the car exhaust mixed with freshly brewed coffee, the never ending constant sound of life in the Big Apple.

And she missed Simon, her best friend. He had returned to New York shortly after the battle. He needed a break from Idris, he missed his mom, and he had to situate his place among the New York vampire coven, lead by Raphael. He came to visit a couple times, but she missed his everyday presence. They had been attached at the hip for many years, and she missed the familiarity of his constant companionship. She was ready for home.

It was their last night in Idris and she felt bittersweet about it. Jace had the idea to take a picnic out to Lake Loryin, to lay by the shore and enjoy the summer day before they caught a portal home.

She wore a white cotton dress, loose and breezy, just like the day. Jace had wore a light cotton button up shirt and light colored pants. Neither of them carried weapons or anxiety in their posture, or were tense and ready for a fight. Idris was at peace.

She felt a twinge of anxiety laying next to Jace, his right hand under her neck to support her head as he kissed her. She knew why he wanted to be alone, out in the vacant countryside where hardly a visitor would cross their path. She knew why she felt a little anxious; tonight would be their first time together. She knew that's what was coming, and she wanted it, with every fiber of her being. But yet, she was nervous.

Her eyes where shut, her lips moving against his, soft and gentle. She could feel the line of his body along hers, slightly leaning over her, while she lay with her back completely against the blanket. She could feel his left hand cupping her waist, moving occasionally to her back. She felt content, blissful, and an overwhelming sense of joy being with him, in that moment. And yet, she was nervous.

"I love you", he paused their actions for the briefest moment to whisper in her ear. She smiled, eyes still closed.

"I know", her voice calm, quiet. She continued to keep her eyes closed and rolled to her side towards him.

He laughed softly and stroked the hair behind her ear.

She awoke some time later. The sun had started to come down in the sky and there was a chill in the air. She pushed herself up onto her hands, slowing coming to a sitting position. She looked around her, but Jace was no where in site. She looked towards the shore, but didn't see him. She felt a pang in the back of her throat, her heart rate speeding slightly. The familiar sense of unease crept into her bones. She turned frantically, looking all around her surroundings, several scenarios flashing through her mind. Thoughts of a returning Valentine, vengeful and blood thirsty. Or perhaps a surviving demon had taken him while he was defenseless, unarmed.

She became more panicked as she rose from the blanket, leaving the shore and heading over the hill to the vast countryside. She found him, looking out toward the countryside with his back toward her, his hands in his pockets.

She slowly approached to him, reaching out for the sides of his arms, tentatively rubbing toward his shoulders. She heard him sigh as he pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her. Her heart beat slowed and her anxiety stifled, a bit.

"Hello my sleeping beauty", he whispered as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I am sorry I fell asleep" she mumbled softly. He laughed under his breath

"You were tired. Its been a long week. You ready to go home?

"Home? You want to leave already", her heart sank to her stomach. How stupid could she have been. She'd fallen asleep...

_Idiot! He was going to… Damn it!_ She chided herself over and over.

His hold tightened around her, as if silently acknowledging her inner reprimand. He smiled, looking down at her.

"Well, it is getting late. And Maryse is cooking everyone dinner. And…I have a surprise for you at home".

Her heart beat quickened again and her spirits lifted.

_Maybe its not too late. Maybe he has something planned for tonight. _

"Sure, let's head home".

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They arrived a while later at the home Jace shared with the Lightwoods: Maryse, Robert, Alec and Isabelle. They walked into the front door to find Jocelyn and Luke sitting in the living room, hand in hand. They looked up and greeted them with smiles of warmth and welcome. Jocelyn got up from the coach, reaching out for her daughter. Luke rose and grasped hands with Jace.

Luke and Clary's mom, Jocelyn, had been inseparable. The three of them had been staying in a vacant home in Alicante since the battle. Luke was not the werewolf representative for the Clave Council, but they'd asked him to stay as an advisor through the past six months while the new Accords were written. Both he and his mother were highly respected among this new generation of Shadowhunters. The time spent in Alicante allowed Clary to be trained by the Clave, so Luke had agreed to stay for the six months.

"He is in the kitchen", Luke said to Jace, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth. Clary was confused. _The kitchen, who…?_

Just then, the kitchen door swung open and Simon walked into the room. Clary squealed and ran towards her best friend. The smile that brightened his face could have lit the darkest of places. He opened his arms as she ran towards him. Simon caught her in a huge hug, lifting her off her feet.

She laughed, "Oh my gosh! Simon! I cant believe you're here." He put her down and she turned on Jace.

"Was this my surprise, you turkey? Why didn't you tell me he was coming?" she smiled, reaching to smack Jace's arm.

"Why spoil the fun?" he grinned, leaning against the wall, both arms folded in front of him. "Now, let's eat! I was starved, waiting around for you to finally wake up". Grinning, he pushed away from the wall towards the patio, where dinner was being served, mock-punching Simon in the shoulder as he walked by.

The patio was surrounded by a beautiful bouquet of blossoming roses, tulips, lilies and summer sages. Candles floated along the low brick wall that enclosed the patio, and along the large wrought iron table that sat in the middle.

Sounds of laughter filled the air. Isabelle sat next to Aline and Maia. Magnus and Alec shared the corner at the opposite end of the table, blue sparks flying from Magnus' finger tips as white lights appeared in the trees that enclosed the house, putting the final touches on the ambience.

"Maia, Magnus" Clary said, "Its so good to see you guys! What's the occasion?"

"Well," said Simon, approaching from the back door. Clary could feel Jace place his hand on her lower back as he ushered her towards two vacant chairs. "How did you think I got here. I hitched a ride with Magnus. And I told Maia I was coming and she decided to tag along."

"So glad you both are here", she smiled as Simon pulled out the chair next to her and sat down, placing his hand on her shoulder and smiled.

Maryse walked into the patio, arms filled with bowls of food. Jocelyn followed with a tray of drinks and bottles of wine, and Amatis joined the group with yet more food. They placed the items in the center of the table.

"Enjoy!", Maryse announced. She touched the top of Jace's head lovingly as she passed behind him, walking to the other side of the table to take her seat. Clary had definitely seen an increase in maternal affection from Maryse towards Jace since the battle. Perhaps it was that she realized she wasn't raising Valentine's son all those years, but a true orphan who needed love and care. Perhaps it was because she missed her son Max, and was redirecting her maternal instincts on the children she did have left. Perhaps it was because she could see that Jace was truly happy with Clary, and she loved seeing her son happy. In any case, Clary was glad to see Jace's adopted mother show her affection for him. And it made the older woman seem less abrasive to Clary, a welcoming and heartened reality.

The night was pleasant. They ate and drank bottles of wine well into the evening. The three older women at the end of the table gossiped, Aline and Maia shared their favorite metal playlists with Simon, Isabelle critiqued the latest fashions with Magnus, while Alec and Luke talked Council politics.

Meanwhile, Clary found herself filled with many conflicting thoughts and emotions. Although she was uber excited to see her friends from New York, she couldn't wait to be alone with Jace. It seemed that she couldn't sit close enough to him, their hands couldn't be intertwined hard enough, and the time began to seem endless.

As the night wore on, Amatis stood from the table, stretched, and announced that it was time for her to get to bed with rather slurred speech.

"I am not of the young, and this night is not either" she hiccupped and stumbled toward the door. Several people at the table chuckled at her demeanor, while others began to gather things from the table to bring into the kitchen. The night had been filled with friends and family, and it seemed that all of them were feeling the effects of the well-weathered wine.

Luke halted suddenly in his spot, his face fixed and a look of dread crept onto his face. Luke swore lowly under his breath as his ears elongated and his eyes widened. Amatis saw her brothers reaction and froze, as did Jocelyn.

Simon stood just as suddenly, listening intently. His eyes just as wide as Luke's, both gazing towards the Gard.

"What…" Jace broke off, stopping in mid-sentence because he'd heard it too.

"Something has happened", Luke whispered, his attention still intent on the sounds of the night. The night became utterly still, all attendees nervously awaiting for someone to announce what was amiss.

Suddenly Luke growled, a sound deep in the back of his throat as his eyes closed in perceived defeat. Jace pulled a blade hidden in his belt, gripping it tightly. The patio door opened.

It was Robert Lightwood, Jace's adopted father, covered in sweat and blood.

"He is dead. Luke he is dead. They've killed him", he panted, clutching at a stitch in his heart.

"Robert --" Maryse screamed.

"Who is dead?" Jocelyn had asked, raising from her seat and crossing the table. Jace stepped in front of Clary protectively as she instinctively reached toward his arm. All eyes were on Robert, awaiting his answer.

"Marcus Darkwinter, the werewolf council member. They've killed him". It was Luke who'd answered. He'd heard it: the screaming from the Gard, the Shadowhunters running the streets of Alicante looking for the assassin. It was a full moon.

Amatis hands flew toward her mouth to cover a gasp, as did Clary's. Maryse's face tightened, the muscles in her jaw protruding. Maia closed her eyes, her head in her hands. Alec and Magnus stood still, watching Luke wearily. Jace looked toward the Gard, fist still clenched, right hand tight around his blade.

"They need you Luke", Robert said solemnly. "They are asking for you. They will need your help to fix this."

"Fix this?", Luke questioned incredulously, his face tightening around the corners of his mouth. "There is no fixing a millennia of disdain and hate between the Downworlders and Shadowhunters, Robert. If it's folly, then it will remain to be. I can't change that." Clary looked down. She had seen that look on his face before, many times throughout her childhood. He was holding back fury. He didn't wear it on his shoulder, like Jace. But she could see it as though it were in plain sight; so did her mother.

Jocelyn approached him, placing her hand on his elbow.

"We will both stay", she said, looking at him fully in attempt to get him to meet her eyes.

"I can't ask you or Clary to do that, to sacrifice both your lives for this" he responded, not meeting Jocelyn's eyes.

"Maryse?", Jocelyn asked numbly, her gaze fixed on Luke. "Clary?"

"Of course, she can stay with us and we will continue her training. Please, she is more than welcome", Maryse answered quickly.

Robert coughed, interrupting her train of though.

"They need us as well", his eyes meeting his wife's as he blushed. He looked down while he explained, "There needs to be an investigation of all who were present…including me." Several whispers and glances were exchanged between the group while several uncomfortable moments passed. Luke looked at Robert and saw that he look abashed, but for what he wasn't sure.

"I don't think you had anything to do with this Robert", Luke assured him, his expression softening slightly. He paused and met Jocelyn's eyes.

Clary sat frozen in her seat as her mother and Luke had a silent conversation for several minutes. She became lost in her own mind. What could have happened? How? Who? The new council meant so much to those who wanted peace, those who fought against Valentine. Jace still stood tense. He thought he knew who would do something like this, who could be behind it.

_But he is dead. It can't be him_, he told himself. Still, there was a faint hint of doubt that lingered and always had since that day by the lake.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Reviews make for a happy writer. Please, share your thoughts or concerns. **


	3. Chapter 2 The Hunt

Chapter 2 - The Hunt

"I still don't see why you guys didn't come help us", Isabelle complained while twirling a fry in some ketchup.

"I told you, Jace wanted to see how you guys, ummm…worked together" Alec explained with his head down, a blush coloring his face.

"Ha!" said Maia, "sure he did. Were you enjoying the view from up there?" she asked Jace, whose mouth curled at the edges.

"I still think that was the _hottest _thing I've ever seen" said Simon, lounging back against the booth with both arms extended along the back of the seat, one lingering around Isabelle, the other around Maia. "You guys need to hunt demons together more often."

"And, I still don't understand why you had to kiss me like that", Isabelle leaned over to look at Maia, who was studiously examining her empty plate. "I almost knocked your head off your shoulders."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," Maia retorted, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "The demons were walking away. I had to do _something _to get their attention."

"I almost started laughing," Clary exclaimed. She was sitting in between Jace and Alec, her right hand in Jace's left under the table. "You almost threw me off my game! Good idea though, I guess. It worked."

"And it did, didn't it. Those poor demons didn't have a chance," Simon said, grinning as he looked from side to side at the two girls in question. "That didn't do anything for ya?" Simon asked Alec, grinning even wider across the table towards Isabelle's highly embarrassed brother.

"First of all, ewww gross. That's my sister. Second, I for the record, did not want to leave you ladies alone. It was tough for me to watch you guys down there fighting by yourselves. I'm just happy no one got hurt in the process of Jace's experiment," Alec replied, glaring at Jace as he imagined what could have happened.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence bro", Isabelle glared.

"Yeah, thanks" Clary nudged Alec's shoulder in reply. "Although, I guess you guys need to be assured of our skills. Well, mine really. I am the only one with little experience fighting."

"You couldn't tell by the way you fought tonight", Jace replied, squeezing Clary's hand he was holding under the table. "I am very impressed". Clary loved the way Jace looked at her, with some sort of awe and so much affection. She blushed slightly and examined her plate more intently.

It had been an eventful night. The Institute got a tip that some Eidolon demons were stalking the Pandemonium club, picking off dancing Downworlders and Mundanes as they mingled and danced under the lights and fog machines. The demons were shape-shifters, known to change into the shape of an attractive human to leer their prey into danger. The same demon-type Jace, Alec, and Isabelle caught and killed the first time Clary met them.

There were reportedly three of them, all male. It had been Isabelle's idea for the girls to go in first, all dressed up to tantalize the male demons. This kind of filth liked their victims to be sensuous women looking for a good time, but who ended up getting more than they bargained for in the end. Isabelle had taken Clary shopping earlier in the afternoon. She said that Clary needed more sexy clothing, not just for attracting horny demons, but for Jace as well.

"Do you understand how many people Jace has been with? And all hot too. I'm not saying that _your_ not hot, its just…well…its good to keep they guys on their toes, you know". Clary didn't like thinking about Jace's past _triumphs_. It was bad enough that every time they went out lately, some mundie girl, hot vampiress or gorgeous faerie had come up to Jace, making it clear that they had once had a hot night together.

It was grinding on her nerves.

She had become more and more irritated as the months back in New York had drug on. Plus, it was nagging Clary that Jace hadn't attempted to have any kind of intimacy with her. He kept saying '_When the time is right. Sex with you is not something I want to take lightly. Love with you should be different, memorable.'_ Clary was still waiting for that 'memorable' night.

"I am fine with my normal hunting clothes. You dress up and be the tease. I will stand back and observe." Clary said as she rummaged through a rack of smutty clothes at the downtown Goth store called Mortimer's Rose.

"No chance. You need to start becoming a bigger part of this team, not just our rune artist, although you are quite an excellent one." Isabelle replied as her head disappeared from view among a row of barely-there tops.

"Are you sure the glamour is strong enough to hide our Marks?" he voice asked from amongst the silk and satin clothes. Isabelle still seemed unsure of Clary's talent, although it had been apparent earlier on that the Marks Clary did were strong. Sure, she could create new runes, but the old ones, the ones from the Grey Book, were stronger when Clary applied them.

Once, Alec had been sliced up his back side by a Razeor demon they had fought down in Central Park. He was slit from shoulders to knees. Clary had been the closest to him during the fight and stopped to place the Healing Rune called the _Iratze_. Alec healed so fast and efficient that it became quiet clear that Clary's Marks were significantly stronger. Alec could move like he was ten years old again, there was no scar, no hint of damage, and his muscles felt like they hadn't seen injury ever before.

From then on, Clary had been the one to place the Marks on Jace, Alec and Isabelle. She even Marked herself. The rune that protected them from the Mundane world, the one that produces a glamour, had been more powerful as well. It hid them efficiently from the demons they had fought and killed since they had been back from Idris. Normally, it would have been very easy for a demon to see past the glamour produced by the regular Mark, but not Clary's.

"Don't worry. I got the glamour covered", She replied, holding up a spaghetti-strapped laced, black corset that was cut low.

"Oh yeah, I like that one. It'll look hot on you." Isabelle said, admiring Clary's find.

"I don't have the boobs for it," She said looking down on the small lumps that currently resided on her narrow chest. "Besides, I don't have a thing to wear with it" she added mockingly.

"Oh, your chest isn't that small. You've started to fill out a bit. Don't be so modest," Isabelle retorted, reaching over to Clary's chest and cupping one of said boobs as if she were testing a melon for ripeness. Clary swatted her hand away quickly, a look of annoyance on her face.

"Plus," Isabelle continued, ignoring Clary's contempt. "There was a red-laced push-up I saw over there. It will look hot under that with red leather pants and spiked boots." Isabelle was always dressed for the occasion. She preferred to hunt in hot Goth-like attire, rather than the prescribed hunting gear that the others wore. Clary still had Amatis' old Shadowhunter gear that she donned to hunt in. She preferred it.

"Fine. What are you wearing?" Clary said, finally giving in.

_I'll try something new_, she thought nervously. Isabelle held up a red-leather, short slinky dress that looked two sizes too small for her. "This, with my thigh high black boots." She replied. Clary rolled her eyes.

_Of course…_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They arrived back at the Institute and got ready in front of Isabelle's large vanity. Clary let Isabelle do her makeup again, like the night they went to Magnus's party. When she was done, Clary's eyes looked smoky and sensuous. Her lips a bright red. Her hair was long, to her mid-back, in thick flowing curls. She thought she even looked hot herself.

"Good job," she complemented Isabelle. "Quiet the artist."

"Oh, but my canvas is amazing to begin with." Isabelle grinned, returning the compliment as she swatted Clary's ass affectionately. It had been hard for Isabelle when Clary first joined the crew. She had always thought girls were something to compete with. Since she had gotten to know Clary, however, she had realized that girls were not meant to be her rivalry.

She adored Clary, thought of her as a sister more or less. Especially since her and Jace were officially together. It made Isabelle so happy to see Jace so happy.

Clary looked at both her and Isabelle in the mirror. Both of them were ready for the night. Clary's "costume" fit her quiet flatteringly. It hugged her curves at just the right angle; her black top was low cut enough to show the sexy lace bra that matched her tight red leather pants. Her heels were just like Isabelle liked them, '_no less then nine inches long'_, as Isabelle had once said about her favorite size of -- heel. Isabelle looked like a Goth Barbie doll. Her black-leather thigh-high spike heeled boots complemented the too small tight fitting red leather strapless dress she donned. Her hair was in long thick black curls like Clary's and her eyes too were smoky. Hookers world-wide would be proud of their choice of dress and Clary felt a twinge of pride because of it.

"I wonder what Maia is wearing?" Isabelle said as she admired their reflection.

"Probably not anything like this," Clary answered honestly, hoping that at least one of them would be comfortable during this wretched night.

Maia and Simon had become an instrumental part of their hunting party. Jace had presented the idea to the Clave council before they'd left Idris. It was his plan to form a trial Shadowhunter and Downworlder hunting party once they'd returned to New York. The Clave readily approved, as long as there was a member from each family on the team. If the group was successful, the Clave would establish mixed hunting parties in each of the major cities of the world. The Council had hoped it would be a sign of solidarity between the two groups, especially since the murder in Idris of the werewolf councilman.

Maia, being a werewolf, and Simon, being a vampire, were approved by the Council. The faerie team member had yet to be appointed. Magnus Bane, Alec's boyfriends, served as the team member representing the Children of Lilith. He normally didn't fight though because he was their healer more or less and the position served him well.

'_Still gives me time to earn extra money doing spells for others. The Clave doesn't pay very well,' _he had said. Clary thought he was a little spoiled, though. She had seen Alec's paycheck from the Clave and thought it was very generous. He, being the only one of age, received six thousand dollars every two weeks from the Clave for his service in New York. Jace was only a month off from being of age, but Clary had little over a year.

She started to think of Jace and began to blush. _What would he think of this get up,_ she wondered. It seemed Isabelle almost read her mind.

"Don't worry. Jace will love it," she answered Clary's informative blush.

"Yeah, sure," Clary replied, her head bowing slightly to hide her deepening red face.

"You ready?" Isabelle asked excitedly. Clary nodded her head and girls walked out of her room.

Jace and Alec were waiting in the hallway. Alec sat on a old-fashioned high back chair while Jace leaned against the adjacent wall.

Clary let her eyes roam Jace for just a second; he wore a his standard black Shadowhunter clothing, belt equipped with a deluge of weapons. Alec was dressed similarly, his crow-black hair pulled back in a short pony tail. They both looked up as the girls entered the hallway.

"Well that's sure to get their attention. Can you breath in that thing?" Alec asked his sister, measuring her appearance from head to foot.

"Oh shut up. You know I look hot," Isabelle replied. "And yes, I will let Magnus borrow it later," she added with a smile as she walked past him toward the elevator. Alec jumped to his feet to follow.

"Not funny," he murmured.

Clary quickly looked at Jace. She'd been afraid that she'd be ridiculed as soon as she stepped out. She hated feeling like she was…naked, and she'd been fighting a strong urge to go back to her bedroom and grab a zip up hoodie. She knew that Isabelle would tear it off her as soon as she saw her, so Clary decided against it.

Jace's eyes were wide, but he quickly recovered with a side-ways grin, one of Clary's favorites.

"You look amazing." he said, running his fingers lightly through her hair down to her collar bone. She shivered slightly. It still felt like an electric current ran through her every time Jace touched her. Clary's eyes met his and she melted. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately.

"I like this," he said, pulling away from her sensuous embrace. "You haven't kissed me like that since.." he broke off.

"Since the night we left Idris, yeah I know," Clary finished. "I just feel different tonight. I think it the adrenaline."

"Ready to kill some demons?" Jace asked.

"And more" Clary said, pulling him closer to him to kiss him again. She felt Jace tense slightly, just for a split second and then he relaxed, pulling her closer. Their mouths parted and Clary melted. She loved this man. Loved him with every part of her being. It didn't matter what she wore or how she felt, he loved her too; just as much, and she knew it. She traced the curve of his lower back as he traced her waist, moving toward her chest.

"I swear to you Jace Lightwood," an angry voice called from down the hall that Clary instantly recognized as Isabelle's pissed voice. "If you mess up her makeup before we even leave the house I will whip you!" Clary heard Alec giggle.

Clary broke apart and looked at Jace. His lips were covered in red from her lipstick.

"Oops." they said in unison. They quickly hurried into Isabelle's room to tidy up.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The line outside the Pandemonium was long, wrapping all the way down the block and around the corner. The crew pulled up to the front, in a stretch limo. Well, it was actually Simon's friend Eric's minivan, but a simple glamour and the Mundies awaiting outside would see a stretch limo.

"Are you sure they'll be able to get right in?" Jace asked, leaning forward towards the driver's seat. "And that we'll be able to enter through the side?"

"Yes. The bouncer is a friend and the owner is waiting for you stud muffins on the side entrance," Magnus replied. "I think he's actually the one who tipped the Institute off about the Eidolon demons." He sat behind the driver's wheel, twirling a loose piece of Alec's hair with his fingers, who sat in the seat next to him. It amazed Clary how comfortable and different Alec had seemed since he came out with his relationship to his parents. His hand rested on his boyfriend's knee. Their relationship was obviously a lot more relaxed and blatant.

"Good." said Jace, leaning back against his seat next to Clary. "I don't want to send them in blind."

"Oh relax." said Isabelle, who was applying another coat of lip gloss. "We will be fine."

"You guys have weapons, right?" Simon asked, leaning to the middle seat from the far back. "I don't know where you would keep them in that thing." He leaned down to look as Isabelle's tight dress.

"You'd be amazed at what I can keep under here," she winked at him, lifting her short-short dress to reveal her gold whip around her upper thigh like a garter. Simon blushed, if Vampires could blush, and glanced at Clary. She was grinning slightly, pulling out a blade she had hidden in her corset, between her cleavage. It was long and narrow, almost like a miniature sword. She whispered _Romaina_ and the blade lit softly.

"What else you got down there?" Jace asked, peering down Clary's shirt. She giggled and whispered "later", so softly only he could hear.

"Okay little kiddies, off to the playground you go!" Magnus called from the front. "Call me if something goes wrong, so I can be prepared for some healing."

Clary and Isabelle both said their goodbyes and hopped from the _limo _arm in arm. There were many of the Downworlders and mundanes who saw them approach and starred. Clary smiled, but was nervous.

This would be a good fight, a challenge for her. She had only been in two real fights since she started hunting. She had done really well then, but still unsure of her skill. She had received six month of training in Idris, followed by further training by Alec and Jace the past couple months. She still had much more to learn. They were expecting a tutor at the end of the summer, appointed by the Clave, to finish Clary's training. Aline would be joining them in New York at the same time to finish her last two years of training. Her parents felt she needed some time out in the field, where the real action was.

"Ready to make them drool?" Isabelle whispered in her ear. "Just think of me as Jace and you will be fine."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about my dancing" Clary grinned. "Its my fighting I'm worried about".

"You'll be fine." Isabelle answered. "The boys'll be there and Maia is meeting us inside. It'll be a piece of cake. There are only three of them anyways."

The girls approached the bouncer who eyed them both generously, smiled and let them in among groans and complaints from the waiting partiers. Isabelle giggled as the bouncer passed her a business card and winked. She placed it gregariously down the front of her dress, between her massive cleavage and continued inside. "Why do you do that?" Clary asked, slightly smiling and shaking her head. Isabelle's flagrant flirting always threw Clary for a spin. Especially since Isabelle and Simon hooked up in Idris. She known for quite some time that Simon was hiding the truth about the night he spent with Isabelle at the Lightwoods, but didn't press him about it.

The girls approached the dance floor which was covered with dancing Mundanes and Downworlders, clad in a variety of costumes. There was a tall mundie boy who had spray-painted his entire body in silver, sporting a small loin cloth and had small fake silver wings. He was dancing with a tiny girl who was dressed like him, but her wings were real and her skin was not spray-painted. There were vampires in the balcony and faeries enjoying the music on the dance floor. The lights would change from acid green to electric pink in intervals that matched the house music DJ Bat was spinning.

"You ready?" Clary asked Isabelle.

"Right behind you" she answered.

Clary made eye contact with the DJ, one of Maia's friends. The music change to _Crush_ by Garbage, making the tempo slow and seductive. Clary grabbed Isabelle's hand and led her to the middle of the dance floor. When they reached the middle, she turned and began to dance with Isabelle. No, it was not _dancing_; it might as well have been sex with cloths on. They were very close to each other, rubbing and gliding their body parts to the music. Clary would slowly bend to the ground, tracing Isabelle's body with her mouth slightly parted. Every inch of them was touching as they swayed and grinded to the music.

Their ploy had succeeded; they were receiving attention from every straight boy in the vicinity, including the Eidolon demons who were lurking among the dancers in the middle of the floor.

Clary saw them approaching from behind Isabelle. There were three: all tall, two with golden hair, one with brown. All three were exceptionally good looking, like Jace, except they had acid green eyes. As Isabelle traced Clary's body to the music, Clary whispered their approach in her ear. Isabelle grinned.

Then, she froze slightly, but recovered quickly moving back up Clary's body.

"Two more behind you", she whispered to Clary on her way back up.

"Damn", Clary glanced toward the balcony to see if the boys were in position. She could see Simon, Alec, and Jace watching their performance from on high. Simon and Alec both looked nervous, but Jace looked amused. Clary saw him wink at her, a crooked grin on his face. She had a feeling that gesture could mean only one thing, and she sighed in frustration.

"I think we are on our own," she said to Isabelle. "The boys don't look like their gunna join us any time soon."

"Damn it Jace!" Isabelle sighed incredulously. "What's he thinking. I had a feeling he was going to pull something like this".

"Don't worry", said a familiar voice from behind Clary.

It was Maia. She wasn't dressed up like the other two, but she was sultry none the less. She wore short camo cut offs with a slinky black tank. Her hair pulled up and her makeup done similarly to the others. "We can take them by ourselves, no sweat," she replied confidently.

"Sure," Clary mumbled, she wasn't as confident as the other two seemed to be.

Maia began to dance with the girls, slow and seductive. However, the demons seemed to have lost interest, looking at a pair of girls that were competing for their attention a couple feet away.

"We are loosing them" Isabelle said as her eyes followed the distracted demons. "Should I take the girls out?"

"No", Clary said exasperatedly and gave her back to Isabelle. She started tracing down Maia's body as she had done with Isabelle. The demons paused. Clary heard a slight gasp and saw the demons returning. She looked up and saw Isabelle and Maia kissing, passionately. Tongues and lips moving to the music as their hands explored each others bodies. The demons surrounded the girls on all sides, closing in. The two kissing girls paused as Clary rejoined them at the surface.

"Ready?" she whispered.

"Oh yeah" Isabelle replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jace, Alec and Simon entered the club from the side entrance. A nervous-looking kelpie who owned the Pandemonium let them in without two words of greeting to the newcomers.

"That was nice", Simon said sarcastically. "Service with a smile. What's his problem?"

"I'm sure he's not too excited about Shadowhunters entering his club," Alec answered as they followed Jace, leading them to the balcony. "We're usually bad for business."

"Oh, that's a bunch a bull shit," Jace grinned. "He just thought you were cute Simon." He laughed with Alec as Simon glanced back over his shoulder to the nervous-looking, short pudgy purple-skinned man who had small tusks growing from the sides of each nostril.

"Funny," Simon responded, looking at Jace with a deadpanned expression. "Real fucking cute asswipe."

"Is this the part where you call me a pretentious asshole?" Jace asked, laughing.

"I said that once, man." Simon replied. "Are you ever going to let me live that shit down?"

"Hell no." Jace answered. "It was hilarious the first time you said it."

"Alright," Alec interrupted, exasperatedly. "Time to get to work. Do you see the girls?" The three of them were positioned on top of the balcony, where most of the VIPs hung out, drinking and doing lines of Coke.

"Ummm, yeah." Simon answered, grinning and pointing to the middle of the dance floor, where both Isabelle and Clary were intertwining to the music. He whistled appreciatively. "Why couldn't I have _that_ job?"

"Damn," Jace said, grinning and starring in the direction of the girls dancing in the middle of the floor. "You enjoying the view, vampire?" Jace asked him as he wiped some imaginary drool from the side of Simon's mouth.

"Enough," said Alec, who was all business, all the time. "They're approaching their position."

Jace looked to see three Eidolon demons approaching from Isabelle's backside. He felt a twinge of nervousness and anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Watching this is not going to be easy.

The boys had decided to let the girls try this out on their own. Jace wanted to see how Clary could handle the situation, plus he was incredibly turned-on every time he saw her fight.

He had argued with the other two earlier in the van; '_We need to see that they can handle themselves in case something happens to us during a fight.' _Simon said that the girls would be very offended of his '_sexist-pig attitude' _if they knew, but agreed in the end.

"Are you sure about this?" Simon asked. "Clary hasn't been fighting that long."

"Yes, but my sister is a very well-trained and an experienced fighter", Alec replied as he watched the demons approach the girls. "She is not down there alone".

"Plus, Maia is coming….. Shit!" Jace broke off with a exasperated sigh.

"What?" Alec asked, eyes wide, scanning the dance floor for oncoming trouble. Then, he spotted them, two more demons approaching from the side. He started to head for the stairs when Jace grabbed his arm.

"Wait", he said.

"Wait?", Alec answered incredulously. "You have got to be kidding me. We cant leave them alone with five Eidolon demons!"

"They are not alone", Jace answered calmly. "We are here and both Simon and I can get to them in a blink of an eye, right?" Jace turned on Simon, who was steadying the girls predicament worriedly.

"Sure, Wayland," he answered, incredulous. "Whatever you say."

"Maia is there now too anyways," Jace added. "And my name's Lightwood, shit-dick."

Jace turned to see that the three girls were surrounded by five incredibly vicious, blood-thirsty demons, ready to make their move.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Suddenly, the music changed tempo, fast and heaving beating. Isabelle pulled her whip from her thigh and slashed the approaching demon to her left. Clary leaped side-ways, pulling her blade out and slicing an arm off a demon to the right. Maia sprung into a backwards flip and kicked out at the two demons behind her; her ears elongated, teeth and claws barred, and her eyes shinning yellow.

The girls were fast, but so were the demons. They recovered quickly and began to fight back. The glamour that Clary produced allowed the mundies only to see them all dancing, but in reality, the _dance_ had turned violent and brutal.

Maia took on the two that she had kicked, fighting and clawing at each other. Isabelle had one trapped in her whip by the ankles, and pulled him down to the ground. Clary fought another one, who slashed out at her with razor sharp silver claws, his eyes a menacingly green. The one she had mutilated was no where in sight. Maia had her hands full with both demons.

"A little help here?" she cried to her companions.

"Be right with you," Isabelle called out across from the dance floor as she pulled a knife from a thigh belt, plunging it into the chest of her captured demon. He made a last ditch effort to take her down with him, clawing out at her face. Thick, heavy scratches appeared on Isabelle's right cheek. She screamed in horror and frustration.

"You fucking, ass sucking, hell loving, shit for brains bastard!" She screamed at the demon, who was gasping as black ichor oozed from his mouth and chest wound. "That was my good side!" He smiled and vanished into a pile of ash.

Clary dodged and leaped out of the reach of the demon's claws, returning each blow with one of her own, making contact as she sliced. Suddenly, one of the demons Maia was fighting broke away and bee-lined it straight toward Clary. Isabelle wheeled around and screamed a warning at Clary, but it died off with the loud pounding music. Clary could see from the corner of her eye, Jace tense in the balcony. She could sense the demon coming, approaching fast-paced from behind her. Instinct took over; she leaped straight up in the air, and flipped over the oncoming demon, slashing her blade as she went. The blade caught the demon as it raced toward her, decapitating it. It vanished quickly. She landed gracefully and parried a lunge toward the remaining demon. The blade sunk deep in its chest. He glanced down at the blade, then his eyes met hers.

"Your time will come, little angel girl." With that, he vanished.

"That was freakin' awesome" Maia screeched above the pounding music.

"Clary, are you alright?" Isabelle approached from the side, the right side of her face a bloodied mess. Her whip was replaced to where it had been before.

"Am I alright?" Clary answered as she gazed at Isabelle's face in horror. "What happened to you? Here." She pulled out her steel and quickly placed a healing rune on the right side of Isabelle's face, just below her ear.

"Thanks", Isabelle sighed, the skin of her face as smooth as if she had just been born.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The boys watched the entire fight, with a mix of ooo's and aww's. They were quickly joined by a couple of Downworlders, who glamour did not work on once the fight had started. Two vampires, a werewolf and a faerie knight stood watching along the banister with Jace and the others. The knight stood next to Simon, who was next to Jace. Simon had both elbows on the banister, leaning over with a slight grin on his face. Alec stood on the other side of Jace, arms folded and face wrinkled with tension.

_He's going to get prematurely grey_, Jace thought, gazing at Alec's posture, then quickly returned his eyes to Clary. He watched with tension and a proud sense of amazement as he watched Clary fight. He didn't pay much attention to the other girls, both born fighters whose instincts were bred for fighting.

Clary had received very little training.

It didn't seem to matter.

Jace was amazed how fast Clary was, how instinctual her movements were, how she seemed neither frightened or hesitant in her moves; her face was relaxed and free of tension. He watched her body: her muscles coiling as she sprung, her hair flowing around her gracefully as she _danced_ around the demon's claws.

This, to him, was sensual. It _was_ a dance to him: a dance filled with excitement, violence and passion. He felt a burning desire in the pit of his stomach for Clary. He tried to fight it down, remembering his promise on that day in Idris.

Simon straightened suddenly, eyes to the front of the club where the remaining mutilated demon was retreating. Before Jace could call him, Simon leaped from the balcony, landing in front of the demon's path. It stopped, black ichor and blood oozing from the corner of its mouth, green eyes blazing and blood dripping from its right stump where an arm used to be.

"Vampire," it hissed through clenched teeth. "I would not be so quick to halter my escape, if I were you. I could put a good word in for you to my master".

"Your master?" Simon answered, stopping his attack, startled. "Who controls you?" he asked, confusion on his face.

"The one who will destroy the Clave," the demon answered mysteriously, his mouth curling into a vicious and menacing grin. "This world will soon be ours. Are you sure your kind has chosen the right side?"

"We have already been down this road." Simon said, his eyes boring into the demon's, his body tensing for attach. "In case you haven't heard the news, Valentine is dead".

"It is not Valentine of whom I speak," the demon hissed, his smile becoming wider. He looked less human-like now. His face changing slightly to more of a Raptor-like snake shaped face. His teeth razor sharp, claw extended on his remaining limb.

"He will find you soon. This was a test, in which you _failed_ miserably," the demon laughed manically. It was cut off quick, stunned surprise on its face. The demon paused to look down to see a slightly glowing blade protruding from the middle of his chest. It made eye contact once more with Simon and whispered "…fail" before it disappeared.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The boys were so impressed with the girls performance, that they decided to take them out for a midnight snack at their favorite diner, Taki's. The girls, having been '_left ready for slaughter'_, as Isabelle had said as she smacked Jace on his arm, were not so pleased.

They had recapped the events of the night, Simon having told them all what the demon had said before Clary killed him, asking questions and theorizing while they eat hungrily.

"I wonder what he meant by 'a test'," Maia wondered out loud.

"He was probably lying," Jace replied, taking a long pull from his cherry soda in front of him.

"Most demons would say anything to be sparred. He probably didn't fancy a munching by a vampire." Jace smiled at Simon, whose face was scrunched up, thinking.

"I don't know," Simon replied, softly so only their table could hear. "Its not like this hasn't happened before. You know, vicious rumors about some dude who wants to destroy the Clave," he continued, answering their confused looks. "That time it turned out to be Clary's psychotic father".

Jace looked away towards the door. His fist tightening in disguised frustration. He hated hearing about his childhood father. He had become very upset with himself lately, of having being tricked into thinking he was Michael Wayland's son, and that Valentine had pretended for ten years that _he _was Michael Wayland and that Jace was his son. Clary said that he was in the anger phase of mourning.

'_Mourning'_, Jace had said, incredulous. '_He wasn't even my father. Why would I be in mourning?'_ Clary had just shook her head and rubbed his arm comfortingly. She had been incredibly supportive through this entire process for Jace. He loved her for it, and for so many other things.

"I don't know." Alec said, studying the back of Jace's head, then turning to look at Simon from across the table. "I think Magnus would've heard something. He's quite socially involved in the rumor mill, as it were".

"But he is part of a Downworlder slash Shadowhunter hunting party", Simon argued, both arms still extended across the back of the booth chair, an empty glass with a vampires version of a Bloody Mary in front of him. "Do you really think that he'd be trusted with that kind of news?"

"Or do you think he would really tell us if he did hear anything?" Jace asked, returning his gaze to the small group. "Oh come on, you know you were all thinking it" he said, addressing the embarrassed looks of Clary, Simon and Maia. Alec looked furious and Isabelle concerned.

"You know what Jace, just shut the fuck up!" Alec stated, fists clenched on the table. "Magnus is a great many things, but he is not a liar, and he is not a backstabber."

"Hey, if you trust him, then I trust you," Jace said, reaching for his adopted brothers hand. "I'm sorry, it just makes me nervous hearing of someone else jocking for Valentine's position."

Clary squeezed Jace's hand she was still holding under the table. He returned the pressure and looked down.

"I wouldn't worry about it until something comes of it," Maia said, finishing up her raw steak. "I figure, its better not to stress about something unless it becomes an issue".

"I'll send a letter to mom and dad tonight," Alec said, officially. "They'll want to be informed of the events of the night." The Lightwoods, Luke and Clary's mom were still in Idris. They'd been there the last two months, helping the Clave investigate the death of the werewolf council member. Luke was serving as a temporary member while the investigation took place. They were supposed to arrive home next month.

Kaelie, the half-fey waitress that Jace had once dated, approached the group with the bill. She placed it in the middle of the table.

"Here you guys go," she sang sweetly as she turned and sat on the edge of the table, right in front of Jace, reaching to play with his hair. Jace's face looked a little uncomfortable, but Clary's was furious. She pulled her hand, fingers intertwined with Jace's, and slammed in on the table, loud and hard enough to get everyone's attention in the whole restaurant, including Kaelie's, whose hand froze midway to Jace's head as she stared at their handhold.

Isabelle covered a giggle while Maia grinned appreciatively. Alec looked uncomfortable, shifting his gaze to the door in search for a quick escape. Jace gazed at Clary proudly, but Simon was studying Clary's face in concern. Clary's eyes were glued on Kaelie with a look that said '_touch my boyfriend and you will die, bitch'_. The waitress coughed softly and retreated to the counter.

Isabelle laughed out loud, "That was freakin' hilarious. Did you see her face?"

"Clary…" Jace sighed

"Time to leave," Alec grumbled, while Maia giggled and pushed her plate away.

"My turn to get the check" she said, grabbing for the check in the middle of the table, beating Alec's outstretched hand.

Simon continued to study Clary's face, becoming more and more frustrated and angry at Jace. He hated the fact that Jace had been such a player before he met Clary, only because it had bothered her so much.

Clary's face was red with anger and embarrassment. She didn't mean to be so rude, but really, she was sick and tired of the women approaching Jace all the damn time. She had let go of Jace's hand as soon as Kaelie had walked away, folding her arms in front of her.

Isabelle lead the way out of the restaurant, yawning and stretching, looking in the direction of the Institute. "Time for my beauty sleep," she said. "Wanna join me?" she added, winking at Simon.

He scoffed, "Maybe later." He wasn't much for flirting; he was still watching Clary, who was obviously ignoring Jace.

"Too bad," Isabelle replied. "That would be a one time offer".

"Sure it is," Maia grumbled as she made her way to the street corner. "See you guys later", she called over her shoulder, retreating in the direction of the pub where her pack hung out.

"Shall we?" Isabelle asked the hunters remaining.

"I'm gunna meet up with Magnus," Alec replied as he tried to hail a cab. He wore a face of great anticipation.

"I need to go for a walk," Clary stated softly, heading in the opposite direction from the Institute, not making eye contact with anyone. Jace started to follow after, but was stopped by Simon stepping in his path.

"Give her some space, _trust _me Lightwood." Jace looked incredulous. His eyes gleamed with the potential for violence.

"Get out of my way, Daylighter."

"Hey asshole, you're the one who created this situation," Simon sneered, answering Jace's glare with one of his own. "I'll go after her."

Jace looked furious, but just nodded his head quickly and backed away toward Isabelle and Alec, who were watching the confrontation from the curb.

Simon spun on his heels, in the same direction as Clary.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**There is some bonus material links on my profile for the first couple chapters, including the prologue. There are some pics included of what _I_ think the characters look like. More will be added as the story is updated. ENJOY!**

**Reviews make for a happy writer…and Jace.**


	4. Chapter 3 Confessions

Chapter 3 - Confessions

Simon caught up to Clary quickly. She had pulled her hair up in a slick ponytail, cheeks glistening with fresh tears. Her arms were folded tightly across her body and looking like they would never be released. She shivered slightly as Simon approached; the night air had a slight summer chill.

Simon untied the zip-up hoodie he'd tied around his waist and handed it to Clary.

"That's for you," she said, not meeting his eyes as she walked to the end of the street corner and paused.

"Actually, its for you" he smiled. "I knew you would want it eventually and Izzy wouldn't let you have your own," he chuckled.

"What about you?" she asked, still not meeting his eyes.

"Vampire, remember?" he sighed. "I don't get cold."

Clary did forget, as she often did, all the things about Simon that had changed.

"Thanks," she mutter, accepting the sweater and swiftly putting it on. She felt a little better, but there was still that ache in the back of her throat and tears behind her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she blushed furiously, finally meeting Simon's concerned face. "I shouldn't have done that." Both hands came to her face as she sat on the curb, looking down toward the street. Clearly, she had upset everyone enough to end the celebrations for the night. Simon reached to comfort her.

"Don't be embarrassed," he said, placing his hand gently on her back. "You were just staking your claim."

"Staking my claim?" She raised her head, meeting his gaze with an incredulous one of her own. "You make me sound like I'm a pioneer staking my flag into Oklahoma land to claim my property," she said exasperatedly, wiping tears from her face.

"That's a good way of looking at it," Simon mused as he nudged Clary's shoulder affectionately. "Think of Jace as property that every other pioneer wants, but can't have cause you've claimed him."

"What?" Clary asked, incredulous.

"Well, Jace has been admired by many, trespassed by some, but no one has yet to staked their claim like you," Simon smiled.

"You are such a dork," Clary giggled . She shook her head is small amusement. She missed this part of Simon, the nerdy easy going friend who could joke with Clary about D&D, watch old scary movies with or share their favorite music while hanging out in her bedroom. She was overwhelmed with an intense sadness as she reminisced.

Simon's face lit up. He loved making Clary happy.

He had thought he loved her once, just as she loved Jace now. But he instinctively knew that she was better off with Jace, cause he could never be what she wanted, what she needed. Nor could she be what he needed in return.

He was still struggling with his feelings for her: friend vs. love interest. He hoped things wouldn't be awkward between them once they'd decided to just be friends and nothing more. He knew he was still her friend, that he always would be. But most of all, he wanted her to be happy; happy in love, the way he had been during that short time together last fall when they were together…the way he _thought _he was now.

"Thanks Simon," Clary smiled up at him. She reached for his hand and held it for a while, gazing out to the vacant New York streets that lined the back alley of Taki's.

"No problem Fray," he answered softly. "You know, if you want I can kick his ass for you." She snorted.

"No, I am pretty sure I could do that myself now," she replied. Simon looked at her proudly.

"You sure could. Where the hell did _that _come from tonight?" he asked, bumping her side once again with his shoulder. "You were amazing out there with those demons. You slayed three of them by yourself."

"Not sure," she replied, still staring at the empty street with a small smile on her face. "I guess its in my blood."

"Guess so," he murmured in reply.

"Simon?"

"Yeah -"

"Why didn't you tell me you slept with Isabelle?" He pulled his hand from hers quickly, fast enough to make her look up in concern. _Where had that come from? _he wondered, completely caught off guard.

"Don't be angry. I'm not. I'm just wondering," Clary assured while attempting to hold his gaze, but Simon was staring down, fumbling with his fingers.

"I told you, its none of your business," he stated bluntly. He wasn't sure why he had lied to Clary. He'd thought that over time and time again. Not only after the first time it'd happened, but the times after as well. Maybe he was embarrassed for having taking advantage of Isabelle's state of grieving the first time around. Maybe at that time he was still hopeful that it would still workout with him and Clary. Maybe the feelings he was having now were so confusing, speaking of them would only make them more real. In any case, he had lied. And had continued to do so through omission. She was his best friend, and he was sure she'd understand if only he'd work up enough nerve to tell her.

"I know its none of my business," Clary tired to mend the situation, smooth it over to get to the point she was trying to make. "Its just…._you_ are my business. You're my best friend, Simon. And…well…I only want you to be happy. Do you still like her Simon?"

There was sincerity and concern in Clary's voice. She felt completely responsible for all that had happened to him, especially that he was now Marked with the an ancient curse given by God himself: the Mark of Cain. They still did not know what the ramifications of the Mark would be. Would he be safe because he was already damned to spend eternity as an outcast? Or, would he be further punished for bearing the curse?

Yes, Clary felt almost a maternal responsibility for Simon. Here he was, trying to comfort her when she knew how he felt about her. How hard must it be for him to see her so happy with Jace, to see her upset over Jace, to see her kissing Jace.

Simon deserved all he wanted in life. She wanted him to be happy, and if that meant being with Isabelle Lightwood, she would try to fix this for him.

Simon sat staring out into the dark street. He had yet to answer her question. He looked like he was in deep concentration.

"Simon?…"

"Yes…. I do, but…"

Clary smiled. She had come to love Isabelle as a sister, and even though se was eccentric and flagrant, she knew that she could make Simon happy.

"The thing is, Clary. Izzy is kinda….well… she doesn't seem ready to be with me in any sort of capacity right now," he confessed, looking down.

"I know she can be a little, flighty. But don't you think that if you told her how you felt, she would respond?" Clary asked.

"No. There is more to it then just that." Simon sighed softly while staring at his hands. He looked uncomfortable. He was not used to talking about other girls with Clary, although she would be the only one he would want to talk to about it.

"She's a Lightwood…", he broke off.

"Yes, she is."

"Well…"

"Well, what?" Clary was getting a little frustrated. _This is kinda like pulling teeth!_

"Well," the words started spilled from him like verbal diarrhea. "Its pretty obvious that Alec is not going to pass on the family name, or line. I just wouldn't want to take that away from her, you know. Plus, I am not aging Clary. She shouldn't have to sacrifice that kind of life for me. And I'm not interested in just shaking up with her for the time being. She deserves better than that. She deserves a full life, one with family and kids. She should be able to…be able to…"

_Where is this coming from? _Clary looked at her best friend, saw his pain and felt it. He looked like this had been bothering him for so long. "Simon… Isabelle can make her own decisions. Maybe she wouldn't want that, if she felt the same way."

"That's just it, Clary. She does feel the same way, or she did in Idris. We've talked about this. She loved me too. But…but…"

Simon thought of the night he had spent with Isabelle in Idris. He came to her room to comfort her, to tell her not to blame herself for Max's death. Isabelle had fallen in love with Simon that night and had told him that much since then. She confided that when he'd came to her that night, she saw in him more compassion and understanding then she had ever felt from anyone in her entire life. It was the same for him too. He had seen her vulnerability, tenacity and deep love she had for her brother; it had melted him, dousing the flame he held for Clary. He cared for Isabelle deeply. And they had spent every hidden moment they could together, sneaking off to hidden corners of Alicante in deep conversations of both their deep secrets and feelings for one another. And the sex was…incredible.

"Simon?" Clary's hand had reached his face, breaking him out of his thoughts. She looked at him deep into his eyes with concern. He reached up and cupped her hand on his face.

"I…" he broke off. He could hear something approaching them from behind. He could smell the distinct smell of….demon.

He jumped to his feet, pulling Clary with him. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and hit a button, tossing to the sidewalk on speaker so that the caller could hear what was happening; Simon needed both hands readily available.

"What…?" Clary began, but was cut off quickly by a menacing hiss. She could smell the demon, its fumes wafting around them like soiled garbage that'd been festering in the summer heat. She pulled her blade from her corset, incredibly angry with herself that she brought Simon out here. They were both incredibly vulnerable for attack.

The demons appeared from behind the vacant buildings, approaching the pair with a blood-thirsty growl. The smell of them made Clary's stomach turn, like rotting skin and clotted blood.

There were three of them, and Clary recognized them as Seether demons; those from the deepest part of hell. They served mostly as retrievers and informants, and were mostly controlled by a higher Demon.

They stood upright, in semi-human form. Their heads were bald, in the shape of a large grapefruit. They had no eyes, but their sense of smell and hearing were incredibly acute. They had slits for nostrils and a large hole in the center of its head that served as their mouth, ringed by rows and rows of sharp, serrated teeth. They wore dark, heavy cloaks that covered them from shoulders to feet. Their skin was grotesque, covered in pustules and warts, rotting off in certain places. Their world is where the disease leprosy originated, and their skin was marked in a similar deformity. Their claws were sharp and long as knifes with poison oozing from their tips. They were not an easy foe.

The Seethers hissed and glided in unison towards Clary and Simon, all three of them widening out to surround them both.

Clary reached behind her and pulled out her stele.

"Simon," she mouthed softly to get his attention, without making the demons aware.

He quietly placed his palm in her hands and she quickly began to draw the Alliance rune.

The skin on Simon began to burn. All three demons froze, smelling the burning skin in the air like hunting dogs. They simultaneously slipped into a crouch, claws and teeth barred as they approached.

Clary's fist tightened around the blade as she felt the rune take effect. Her sight strengthened; she could see every detail of the creatures stalking towards them, including that the third one had a slight limp to his left foot she didn't notice before. Her sense of smell strengthened; she caught a scent on the breeze, alerting her that there was a fourth demon hiding in the shadows across the street, but it didn't smell like the others.

_The controller perhaps?_

The seraph blade in her hand felt has light as a feather, and her muscles coiled ready for a fight. She liked this Alliance rune, and she was incredibly thankful for her partner standing next to her.

Simon's sense of smell and sight were fixed on the three approaching demons. He also noticed the limp in the third one and caught the smell of the fourth across the street. He felt more prepared to fight then he had before, like he knew how to fight, more specifically, that he had spent years of training to fight demons. The urge for a blade in his hand immensely strong. He quickly mused to himself that he'd obtain a blade, so that next time they fought, he'd be ready to use one.

His teeth slide from their sheaths, and he smiled.

The joint assessment of their predicament happened in mere seconds. They were both ready to fight as the demons approached, less than four feet away.

Simon reached for Clary's hand and squeezed. She returned the pressure, a silent reassurance among partners and allies as the demons steadily enclosed.

Suddenly, Simon flung Clary with the hand he still held, toward the right in a circle like a shot putter. Clary landed behind the demons and to the side of the gimpy one. Her blade ready.

The demons were well trained fighters. Simon took on the two he still faced, while Clary danced with the other.

She tried to capitalize on his previous injury, slicing out at his legs, but the demon clawed back quicker then she had ever seen any demon move before. She slightly had time to process this, when she realized the demon was not in front of her, but behind her ready for attack. She leaped in a sideways flip, slashing the blade as she went. She felt it cut through the fabric of its cloak and heard the demon hiss menacingly. Her blade was covered in ichor, but the demon attacked again.

Simon was busy with both remaining demons. While he leaped, kicked and sliced at the demons, part of his concentration was directed toward the back alley across the street, where the other unknown demon stood, observing.

_What the hell?_Suddenly, Simon was thrown to his back. A horrible, drooling Seether demon on top of him, ready to bite. Simon raised his right leg, kicking the demon from behind. The demon flew forward and Simon jumped to his feet in an eighth of a second. The remaining demon was racing towards him. Simon ran in the opposite direction, toward the alley wall. He made contact with the wall, placing his feet on it, and ran up it halfway, then pushed off, flipping over the demon and landing on its back. He bit the demon, filling his mouth with a putrid flow of sour tasting ichor and blood, ripping half its neck away. Oozing thick liquid poured from the wound. The demon shrieked and fell to his knees, writhing.

Clary was fighting toe-to-toe with the other demon. For some reason, this one seemed to be faster and stronger then the others. It seemed to be fast healing as well. Clary was tiring quickly, but she had a picture of Jace's face plastered in front of her eyes, making her find her endurance when she wanted to collapse, concentration when she felt like looking for Simon, courage when she felt like giving up.

She kicked out hard at the demon, and it fell backwards against the alley wall. She capitalized on the moment, flipping in her blade in her right hand, pointing down toward the ground. She clasped the hilt with both hands and plunged it down into the heart of the demon in a split second. It coughed, spilling blood and green slime onto its cloak.

It was at that moment, she saw Jace, Alec, and Isabelle running around the corner into the alley. Jace made eye contact with Clary. His face was thick with shock, concern, and intense joy that she was alive.

He then turned his gaze toward the scene of demon death all around the alley. He looked at Clary, raking her body with his eyes, which widened as he took her all in. Clearly, she was a site to see.

She looked down at herself. She was covered with ichor and blood, a slick sheen of sweat covering her torso, arms and face. Thick, deep cuts screamed from both arms. She hadn't noticed herself being wounded during the fight. Even now, with the adrenaline pumping thick in her veins, she hardly felt pain at all.

She wheeled around to find Simon holding the remaining demon in a headlock, ready to bite. Before Simon could make contact, the demon reached behind him with one hand and grabbed Simon by the hair on his head, flinging him into the opposite wall. Jace leaped out at the demon, blazing seraph blade in his hand. He sliced at the demon, who screeched in pain, then vanished.

Isabelle ran to Simon, who lay limp on the ground. Clary watched with concern, but remained over the bleeding and panting demon beneath her, guarding his every move with her peripherals.

Isabelle leaned over him as Simon stirred. He slowly made his way into a semi-sitting position, leaning against the alley wall, clutching a stitch at his side and panting. Alec stood at the alley's entry, on the phone with, Clary assumed, Magnus.

Simon looked at Clary and they made eye contact for a split second. In that moment, they both shared a sense of immense thankfulness that neither was severally hurt. It could have been a lot worse.

Just then, the demon beneath Clary began to chuckle softly. Clary whipped her head toward him.

"Yooooou ssssssssilly girl," the demon rasped and rattled, blood still oozing from the corners of its mouth.

"Speak demon," Clary said. Her presence incredibly demanding. She felt a slight breeze and Jace was at her side. "Who sent you?"

"You foolsss. This is not a war you will not win. We have our champion now." Clary glanced to the alley across the street, but there was no one in site.

"Who was in the alley, demon?" Simon asked. He had risen to his feet, still clutching his side and using Isabelle as support.

"You will know only those enemiesss who reveal themselvesssss, which my masssster is not ready to do. I will say this ……he wasssss watching you," it laughed, pointing at Clary, then paused gasping for air. Clary pulled the knife from his chest and with a quick movement, decapitated the demon. The remains of its body vanished before them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Reviews make for a happy writer…and more kick-ass fight scenes! **


	5. Chapter 4 Sparring

**Warning: Rated M for a reason. If you ain't old enough to read it, then peace out now!**

Chapter 4 - Sparring

_She was panting, running._

_Dark walls surrounding her, her path hard to see, but she kept running nonetheless._

_It felt like she was trying to escape from someone, something._

_She could hear it behind her, her heart thudding loudly in her ears._

Clary awoke in a sheen of sweat, her pulse beating irratically. She felt like she _had_ been running.

She sat up slowly, evaluating her surroundings. She was in her room at the Institute, the early morning sun shining in from her window.

She felt tired, the same nightmare had been plaguing her dreams for the past month or so, ever since that night her and Simon had been attacked outside Taki's. She was trying to evaluate the dream, figure out if it had meaning to it like the ones Iutheriel had sent her. Those ones were meant to be warnings of future events. Was this the same?

Jace said it was just a nightmare, that the angel was not trying to send her coded messages again, but she wasn't as sure of that.

She rose from bed, shaking her head numbly as if to rid herself of the vivid images floating around in her head, a residual from the nagging dream. She got up quickly, entering the bathroom for a much needed shower. She spent the next thirty minutes or so replaying the dream in her mind while she washed. It was nagging her and she quickly became frustrated.

She got out of the shower, toweled off, and got dressed. She pulled her hear in a tight pony tail. She needed a distraction. She grabbed her Ipod and headed for the best distraction she had right now.

A good workout.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clary had been in the training room all day. She was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her black sports bra was glued to her back and her camo pants clung to her legs. Her headphone buds were in her ears, playing a song by Flyleaf, one of her favorite bands.

She felt good after a good workout like this, strong and feeling like she could take on any demon she crossed. She didn't want to disappoint Jace, who had taken on her training more seriously in the past month. She had been working hard, training her body into peak health and shape.

She wiped sweat from her forehead as she sat on the bench beside her. Although she couldn't figure out the dream that had been tormenting her, she couldn't help but look for the positives in life.

For one, she was in incredible shape. The training workouts had helped her body shape into her womanly form. Second, she was entirely and irrevocably in love with Jace Lightwood. He made her feel incredible, and had taken the last month to show her how much he appreciated her. And third, tonight was going to be a lot of fun.

It was Jace's birthday, and she had yet to seem him yet today. She knew that both him and Alec were meeting with potential Faerie team members who had applied to the Clave, but she couldn't wait to see him. She hoped tonight would be the night, the one passionate night she had been hoping for since she and Jace had officially been together. The night they would make love.

Clary could feel the anticipation building in her chest. Her thoughts flickered to the events she'd been imagining for tonight, and a soft blush tainted her sweaty skin. She couldn't wait to be alone with him, to feel his soft skin, to have his rough hands roaming her entire body. Clary felt a familiar heat building in her core, residing low in her belly and causing her legs to shift uncontrollably.

_Patience is a virtue…_she thought numbly.

She took a deep breath, looking at the bar above her head. She jumped, reaching out for the bar. Her hands made contact, firm in her grip. She pulled herself up, reaching her chin towards the bar.

With each count, she thought of Jace. About his bronze hair and golden skin, about the way he looked at her when he leaned in for a kiss, the way his thick muscles pulsed under his clothes, calling her closer.

She dropped from the bar in frustration.

_Damn it Clary, concentrate, _she chided herself.

She looked back up to the bar and grasped it, pulling herself up. When she was on count twenty, she heard a steamy voice behind her.

"Damn, you look hot right now." It was Jace, leaning against the door frame, admiring his girlfriends activity. He always liked watching Clary sweat.

She panted with the effort of pulling herself up to the bar for count twenty-five. She tried not to let Jace's affection and admiration cloud her concentration. She barely heard his contemplation above the roaring music in her ears.

She dropped from the bar, the sweat more prominent on her chest and arms, covering her upper lip in a slick sheen. She pulled the Ipod buds from her ears.

"What are you doing staring at me?" she panted, both hands on her hips. "And why aren't you in here with me? Afraid I'd kick your ass?" She reached for a towel, wiping her face and back of her neck quickly.

Jace smiled at her antics, and pushed away from the door frame, entering the room.

"I would love to see you kick my ass," his gaze grazed her up and down, appraising her body as if she was nude. "Or kiss it, which ever comes first," he grinned.

"Jace, I am really not in the mood to spar right now," Clary whinned, knowing that look in his eye. Sparring with Jace never lasted less than a couple hours. "I have been in here all day."

"I know. And now look at you, all hot and dripping wet," he gave her the same look, like he was about to just rip her clothes to shreds and ravage her right there on the training room floor. However, Clary knew better. Fighting was a lot like sex to Jace, especially with her. He became just as enthralled and obsessive over a good sparring partner as would a teenage boy with his first hard-on and bottle of lube. He just couldn't get enough of it.

She sighed and sat on a bench in the middle of the room, completely spent and put her hands in her head.

"I bet I can get this out of your system," she mumbled behind her hands. She was secretly smiling, wanting him to attack her.

"Oh Clary, it looks like I am going to have to school you once again," Jace sighed, sounding like a high school gym teacher in mock disappointment, placing both hand behind his back.

In a split second, he had pulled out a seraph blade he had hidden behind him, and soundlessly charged towards Clary.

In that same second, Clary sprung to her feet, leaping backwards towards her miniature sword-type blade, grabbing it in mid-air. She pulled the blade to in front of her body just in time to block Jace's attack, causing both swords to clatter together.

The force of Jace's attack pushed Clary back so far, her back slammed into the back wall. She was panting from the exertion, sweat glazed all over her body, beads resting on her chest. "Lesson one: do not lower your guard," Jace panted, grazing Clary with his eyes. She hated when he looked at her like that, like she was a item he was thinking about purchasing and taking home, especially since he hadn't yet. His gaze met her chest, heaving and sweating. He smiled wickedly, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. Clary began to rethink feelings toward that look.

She felt a burning desire for him, and could feel his want and need for her leaking off of him like heat waves.

_Like a moth to a flame.._ she thought, smirking slightly.

Clary was fast as lightening. She swept out Jace's legs, landing him hard on his back. She was standing over him, straddling him, with her blade pointing at his chin. He chuckled, looking up at her with admiration.

She slide down slowly until she was on top of him.

"Lesson two," she mocked, her finger tracing the outline of his soft bottom lip. "Do not loose your concentration, Mr. Lightwood. It can make for a very dangerous outcome."

Jace's tongue flicked out quickly to meet her finger resting on his lip. Clary gasped in surprise, followed by a soft moan as his face changed suddenly. His eyes became hooded and he looked at as if he was enjoying the view from below her.

Jace's hands grasped Clary's hips tightly as he positioned her a little lower on his waist. Both of them were panting from exertion, and the undulations underneath her did nothing for Clary's self control. She bent down and kissed Jace. She tried to put so much passion in the kiss, so much desire. She wanted him in every way, her body was screaming for him to be inside her, to take her, to claim her.

Jace hesitated in the embrace, just for a moment, then he reached up, placing his right hand to the back of her neck and pulling her deeper into the kiss.

Jace was just as frustrated, but reasons different then Clary's. He wanted her. God, he wanted her so badly it hurt. And he was so close in that moment, as he felt her heat radiating from the sweet forbidden place between her legs.

He couldn't take it any more. No matter what he promised, no matter what had happened that day by the lake in Idris, he wanted her and wanted her now. He could feel himself pulsating between her legs, and damned the fabric separating them.

In a flash, he rolled Clary to her side, positioning himself so that he was on top of her. They kissed with such force, such passion. Their lips parted and Jace gave her his tongue, gently caressing her bottom lip. She moaned softly and sensations ran up Jace's spine. The sound of her pleasure was intoxicating and more than welcomed. His hips began to move uncontrollably, thrashing into her center as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer to where she wanted him the most.

Clary began clawing at his back, pulling his T-shirt over his head with a quick movement. Instantly, their mouths found each other once more, tongues dancing in unison. Clary's hands traveled down Jace's slick body. She felt the cords of the muscles in his back as he pressed against her, ravishing his mouth with all the passion within her. Her hands continued to roam, exploring the soft skin over hardened muscle. His arms were strong and sensuous, rippling around her like some unbreakable cage, erotic and unmoving.

Jace rubbed up Clary's stomach, flirting with the edges of her bra. It would only take a quick movement, and she too would be bare-chested beneath him.

Clary could hardly breath. She wanted him so much in this moment, to have his naked body against hers. Skin on skin, muscle to muscle. She felt her lower stomach tensing, pulling her hips closer to Jace's hardened member. She reached one leg over Jace's back and with incredible force, pulled his hips to hers with both hands behind his butt. Jace groaned and licked her ear.

"I love you Clary," he whispered heatedly along her skin, causing the area to pimple with goose flesh. Clary was conflicted; her original goal was to diffuse Jace so she wouldn't have to spar anymore. But now, with him on top of her so willing, she didn't want to stop. But on the other hand, there was no way she wanted their first time to be on the nasty gym floor.

_That'd be one to tell the grandkids._

Deciding to put a stop to this for now, Clary donned her best Scarlet O'Hara voice."Why Jace," she smiled under his heated body. "I believe you've failed at Lesson Number Two and lost your concentration."

He moaned, his head thudding to the ground beside Clary's, exasperated. She placed both hand behind his head, rethinking her decision to end all the fun and save it for another time.

"You are the most poisonous vixen I have ever met," he moaned against her neck. He berated himself for letting him get to her like this when they were sparring, but how could he help it? She was the sexist thing he ever saw, the way her muscles corded when she pulled herself up on the bar, everything tense in her body. The skin glistening with exertion and raw power.

_Damn._

He looked up to her eyes, and met her penetrating gaze. Her emerald eyes pierced his soul, causing a deep ache in the pit of his stomach. He would not be right until he had her, but he felt incredible guilt….guilt because of the gift and promise he'd made to the Angel.

Jace sat up, offering his hand to Clary to help her up. She rose to her feet and they both sat on the bench nearby. They were silent for several moments, both lost in their inner musings and conflicting thoughts. Clary broke the silence after a while.

"What do we have planned after the party tonight?"

"Nothing," Jace answered, looking at the ground. "What do you wanna do?"

She rolled her eyes, landing on the ceiling. Jace was so nonchalant about his birthday. He was turning eighteen for crying out loud. Luckily, Magnus had _happened _to plan a big party at his loft that night, inviting all of them over on the pretense that they didn't try and kill any of his guests.

"Jace, its your birthday," she said exasperatedly. "You're eighteen. Time to celebrate." She grinned, leaning over to kiss the back of his neck.

"Besides," she whispered against his flesh. "I've got a couple surprises waiting back home after the party. It should be…enjoyable." She thought of the black silk teddy she bought with Isabelle burning a whole in her dresser drawer. The Lightwoods and her parents were not back from Idris, and it was the perfect night for them to finally have that night of passion she had been waiting for, like they almost had here on the floor where anyone could've walked in. She felt herself blush in embarrassment.

Jace looked anxious and Clary analyzed his face critically.

_What is his problem_, she wondered. _Does he want me or not?_ Clary felt so confused. She knew that he loved her, loved her with every fiber of his being. But, he hadn't yet tried to make love to her. He kept bringing up excuses about it being the right time, the right moment. She thought tonight would be perfect, no more excuses and no more confliction. But what was his problem now?

There was a noise at the door and Clary was pulled from her thoughts. Isabelle stood in the doorway, dressed in a short white dress with a plunging neckline. Her hair was pulled up in a loose bun and her feet were donned with red spiked heels that matched her red pendant around her neck. She tapped her foot impatiently.

"What are you two doing?" she complained. "We are all ready to leave."

They both looked at each other, staring back at a face that was full of burning desire. Clary blushed, while Jace exhaled exuberantly.

"Argh," Isabelle huffed in front of them, looking between the two as she appraised their response. Clearly, she had just walked into some potential love-making.

"Well, hurry up and do whatever I just interrupted. We don't have all damn day!" she muttered quickly, then left the room as suddenly as she came.

Clary and Jace's eyes met briefly and parted just a quickly, both gently laughing.

"Well, I do believe a cold shower is needed. See you tonight beautiful." Jace stood and bent to give Clary the softest of kisses. She melted at even the smallest of gestures, and watched him exit the room, shirtless and incredibly sexy.

She sighed and tried to shake the images of a hot and sweaty Jace from her head. Not being successful, she stood up and returned to her pull-up bar. A good hundred should cool her head.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**So? First (small) taste of some lemon zest. Huh? Reviews make for a happy writer…and a sweaty Jace.**

**More bonus stuff on the profolio! Check it out home skillets.**


	6. Chapter 5 Happy Birthday

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Chapter Five ~ Happy Birthday

Clary was expecting Isabelle to be sitting on her bed when she got out of the shower, waiting to pounce her the moment she stepped out of the bathroom. She was not disappointed.

There she sat, tapping her red-heeled toe impatiently.

"Its about time! What were you doing in there? Was Jace in there with you or what?" she smirked, looking around Clary, expecting to see him step from the bathroom.

"Don't get me started, please", Clary whimpered, images of a slick, wet and sweaty Jace flashing into her mind. She had spent the last half hour trying to get the visions of Jace's hot body on top of hers, every line touching hers, the feel of his lips, the warmth of his breath. She lost count of the amount of times she'd to turn the water to cold just to get her fantasies under control. It was not a very successful campaign.

Isabelle shrugged, flinging the towel off Clary and pulling on a burgundy, short silk strapless dress.

"I don't know why you two just don't get it over with. You are exponentially increasing the sexual tension around this place, something, I for one, do not need right now" Isabelle grudged, while pulling the dress over Clary's hips. She spun her and sat her in front of the vanity, preparing for a complete hooker makeover.

"Believe me, its not me, its him," Clary explained, grimacing slightly as Isabelle yanked a brush through her damp hair. "I just don't think he wants me like that anymore. Maybe being back in the city, where he has all these women flinging themselves at him, makes him rethink this 'one woman' thing".

"Clarissa Fray I am going to smack the shit out of you", Isabelle cried, raising her wooden-handled hair brush high in the air like she really wanted to hit Clary with it. Clary smirked and rolled her eyes. Isabelle's eyes softened as she lowered her raised arm.

"I have never seen Jace like he is around you. You make him smile…like really smile. No other person has ever been able to do that to him."

"I doubt that," Clary mumbled, thinking of that hot vampiress that whispered in Jace's ear one night at the club, making Jace smile _and _blush.

"Don't go there, Clary," Isabelle warned. "Bend," she commanded as she started up the blow drier, forcing Clary's hair to topple over her head. Isabelle was convinced that blow drying hair upside down added to the 'hooker hair' look. Once they'd argued over it for a week straight. Clary finally relented after Isabelle had taken out a ruler and measured her 'volume' post air dry, upright blow dry and upside down blow dried hair. The upside down had won.

"Flip," Isabelle commanded once Clary's hair was sufficiently 'poofed' to its fullest height. Isabelle began to attack her strands with a thin comb, teasing the base of her hair until Clary had a mild headache from the tugging. Isabelle began her argument again as she picked up a large barrel curling iron.

"Jace is head over heels for you, Clary. You have to see the change in him, don't you? It's like he's a different person. A better person since you two have been officially together."

"I don't make him a better person, Iz," Clary argued. "He was pretty great before I met him." Isabelle nodded in agreement.

"He was," she started slowly. "But you don't understand because you didn't know him before. It took a lot for us to get close to him when he came to live with us. Loosing his father at such a young age changed him. And since we've learned the truth of his upbringing, I can look back and pick out the deep pain behind his eyes that always seemed to linger there in the beginning." Clary felt tears coming to her eyes, thinking of a young Jace and how hard his life must have been then. She wished she'd have known him then, so she could've comforted him, been there when he needed her.

"But then he met you, and that pain seemed to retreat slightly." Clary smiled weakly and Isabelle returned it quietly.

"When he thought you were his sister…" Isabelle trailed off, a freshly curled strand of red hair in her stilled hand. "It was like that pain returned tenfold. And I felt like Jace was slowly drowning inside himself." Clary closed her eyes, the memory of the pain they'd both endured during that time stabbing her in the chest.

"He'd die for you Clary," Isabelle whispered softly. "You have to know that he adores you." Clary nodded quickly, unable to speak at the moment. Isabelle sighed softly, turning towards Clary's face to wipe the tears that'd escaped from her wet eyes.

"Don't cry," Isabelle crooned, cupping Clary's face in her hands. "You'll make your face all blotchy." Clary let out a small chuckle while Isabelle smiled warmly. After several more minutes of prep work, Clary's makeup had been plastered on and her hair was fluffed to what Isabelle deemed an appropriate height.

"There, you are done and gorgeous as always." Isabelle proclaimed, turning Clary so she could examine the damage. As always, she looked more sultry then she could have imagined she could.

"Isabelle! I am not going out to try to seduce horny demons. What the hell are you doing?"

"You may not be trying to seduce demons, but there is one horny demon killer that has been extremely elusive lately. Plus, think of how your eyes will smolder when he is banging you everyway possible…twice".

"Oh ga, Iz", Clary hid her head in her hands. Izzy always had her way with words.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jace waited patiently outside Clary's room. He knew Izzy was in there turning his girlfriend into a sex goddess. How was he going to resist her now? He was so close to taking her right there on the floor of the training room. How many cold showers had he taken in the last two months? He lost count a long time ago.

The temptation to make love to Clary, with a the huge Institute to serve as a sexual playground, was almost impossible. And yet, here he was, on the night of his eighteenth birthday, ready to take Clary to each and every one of the rooms the Institute had to offer and fuck her till she forgot her own name.

As he sat waiting, his imagination roamed over so many possibilities of sexual pleasure, he started to feel the need for yet another cold shower. Clary on top of the piano, naked, while he played for her, completely seductive, leaning down to kiss him, him raising from the bench to join her on top, her pulling his shirt slowly from his body, her hands tracing the planes of his chest, his stomach. Him caressing her round supple breasts, while he bent down to place his lips on her stomach as she tossed her head back with a moan…

The door banged open and out came the object of his fantasy.

She looked amazing, and those eyes…

"Jace," Isabelle pointed a finger in warning right in his face. "There will be plenty of time for hot, mind numbing sex later. You fuck her now and mess up her look, and I. Will. Skin. Your. Dick. Clear?" At that, Clary smacked Izzy's arm and rolled her eyes, completely embarrassed. Jace, however, smiled.

"You mess her face up now and I will seriously whack off your dick and give to Magnus for his play thing, do you understand me?" Isabelle looked like she would too.

"Iz, I know you want to touch my body, but come on. You really going to go as far as make up some idle threat as to take my manhood?" Jace smiled that all too familiar smile, like he was the sexist thing alive and every person with a vagina was salivating for the chance to jump him. Clary almost did, right there in the middle of the hallway.

He looked incredibly yummy, white cotton shirt barely buttoned, showing his silky muscled skin underneath, with low rise dark denim jeans. The seraph blades he always carried hardly being concealed under his shirt, which to Clary, was a major turn on. It made her think of the training room instantly. This was going to be a long night.

"What? No birthday present?" he asked Isabelle as she pulled back her hand to smack him.

She smiled and leaned in to whisper, "You see that hot chick behind me?" Jace looked around to see Clary fixing her thigh sheath, equipped with two seraph blades, the slight glow of the blades accentuating every curve of the thigh. Jace closed his eyes, _breath, just breath._

"That my friend, is your present. And here is a little bonus gift. She is not wearing anything under that dress". She winked and walked down the hall.

Jace thought we was going to die right then and there, clutching his heart and leaning against the wall for support. Yes, this was going to be a long night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clary, Isabelle and Jace had met Simon and Maia outside the Institute, and together, they hopped the subway to the party.

Clary noted how different, yet again, Simon looked. He wore dark jeans with a black button up shirt, form fitting. His lean muscles were definitely visible through his shirt, hugging his curves in all the right places. Maia, on the other hand, still looked like she always did. She wore a black T shirt that read 'Don't worry, I'll go easy on you' with skinny jeans and ballet flats. She sat next to Simon, their hands on their laps and holding rigid postures. They seemed to be deliberately avoiding eye contact with one another, neither of them saying a word to each other. Clary wondered what drama surrounded poor Simon now.

Isabelle glared at the both Maia and Simon the entire ride over to Magnus', obviously picking up on the tension as well.

_May the long night begin, _Clary thought, reaching for Jace's hand as they exited the train.

Magnus' loft was amazing, perfect for Jace's party. The walls were silver, almost metallic. The lights bounced of the walls, drenching the entire scene in mixed colors of acid green, neon pink and sunlight yellow. Glitter confetti fell from the ceiling by an unseen source, like a continuous shower that, somehow, did not reach the partiers on the dance floor.

This was kind of a combination party. An opportunity for Downworlders and Shadowhunters in New York to mingle and celebrate the new Clave Council. What a perfect place to have the party but at the High Warlock of New York's extensive loft. And the loft was filled to the brim with exited dancers and ravers.

The group walked into the party and took in the atmosphere.

"Well hello there kiddies!" It was hard not to recognize the bolstered voice of Magnus Bane, Warlock and Diva Extraordinaire. He approached the clustered group and froze, almost as if he slammed on the breaks, holding both hands up, palms forward.

"Wow! You can cut the sexual tension with a knife." Everyone stirred uncomfortably. "Stop it! You are going to frizz my hair with all this pent up lust, good God!" Magnus grabbed Jace's and Simon's arms and let them to the bar, which was made up of silver metallic trash cans turned upside down with a slab of black granite laid on top. Alec was there, sipping on a gin and tonic.

"Grab these two a beer each please, before they burst on my floor," Magnus gestured to the bartender, a green woman with bright red hair and two sets of arms. Alec snorted into his drink, then patted Jace on his back in a brotherly type manner.

"Still no go, huh?" Alec asked him, gesturing with his head in Clary's direction. Jace had confided in Alec, telling him the tainted details of his sex life, or lack there of. He'd kept the Angel's command a secret though. Only he knew the details of that day.

Jace just leaned his back against the bar along with Simon as they both drank their beers in silence.

"What's with you?" Alec asked Simon, noticing his rigid posture and narrowed eyes. His aura screamed tension and angst.

Simon gestured with his head to the dance floor. Both Jace and Alec turned their heads to see where he was looking. There on the dance floor, a tribal dance of lust and passion ignited. Maia and Isabelle seemed to be locked in an ultimate show down of who could entice Simon to take them to the back room and rip their clothes off, just by dancing, both eyeing him ferociously like panthers on the hunt.

"Oh good God!" Alec exclaimed and turned his back to the scene. Jace reached over and placed his hand on Simon's back.

"If I were you, I would go for both," Jace offered, winking and smirking as if they'd shared a common dilemma.

"And actions like that, my friend, is why you are in the predicament you are in," Simon said, nodding at the two sprite women who were walking by, eyeing Jace. "And is why, I am glad that I am not you". He pushed away from the bar and daringly joined the two girls dancing. "I think he's starting to fall into his role," Alec mused next to Jace while they both admired Simon's courage and dancing skills as he tackled both women with grace.

"What role?" Jace asked.

"The sexy vampire god," Magnus answered, joining the two at the bar, sipping a bright pink martini glass equipped with yellow umbrella in his hand. He quickly encompassed Alec's attention, and the two were muttering in each others ears.

Jace looked around the dance floor for Clary. His heart froze as he saw her, gently swaying to the music, in the middle of the dance floor, her hair draped around her in a lush crimson curtain, her body rocking back and forth to the music, her eyes gently closed. He wanted to go and join her, but was stuck there, admiring her from afar.

Suddenly, Clary was approached by someone who started slowly dancing with her, rocking their hips with hers. Jace couldn't make out who he was, because his face was burried in Clary's thick curtain of hair. The stranger pressed his body up against her back, their arms wrapped around her low on her back, as he lowered his faced against her neck, right below her ear. A small smile formed on Clary's face as she leaned back into his body, laying her head on his shoulder with ease and comfort.

Jace was overcome; his heart felt like it was burning inside his chest, a deep urge burning in the pit of his stomach to rip the arms that were holding Clary out of their sockets. He stood, wide eyed and fuming, completely flabbergasted at the scene in front of him. The stranger picked his head up away from Clary's ear and he recognized him.

Simon.

_What the hell is he doing?_

Clary was laughing and pressing herself deeper into Simon as they swayed.

_She is laughing? She is dancing? Like _that _with Simon?_

Jace felt so many emotions crushing threw him. Jealousy, anger, pain, lust, and most of all, confusion.

But all he could do, was stand there and watch, asking himself endless questions.

That is when he realized, he was not standing there alone.

Merloin, a faerie Knight that Isabelle had once dated, was standing next to him. Jace glanced in his direction and found Merloin staring at him intently.

"Can I help you?" Jace asked with a little more bite than he meant to. Downworlders were, after all, allies now. Although, he felt like ripping one specific Downworlder to pieces.

"A friend of mine watched your new hunting party fight at the Pandemonium," the faerie answered quickly.

"Yeah, so?" Jace retorted as he stared furiously at Simon. He was only half paying attention to the conversation, still seething in Clary's direction. He vaguely remembered the faerie that stood next to him, watching the girls fight the five Eidolon demons at the club a month ago.

"My Queen would like to suggest a fey representative for your team," Merloin responded, seemingly ignoring Jace's inattention and sour attitude. At that, Jace turned to look at the tall, dark, handsome knight standing next to him.

"That is up to the Clave to decide. It will not be up to me or Alec."

"The Queen has spoken to the Silent Brothers in the Bone City. If you are willing to meet in court and agree to her choice, they will also approve the appointment."

Since faerie's could not lie, Jace did not question what he said, but he did attempt to dissect the faerie's statements for hidden truths.

"I'll discuss it with the group. If we agree, we will meet you in court tomorrow at twilight." Merloin gave a slight nod, and departed from the party.

Jace heard laughing from behind him and turned to find Clary and Simon laughing at the bar, about to order a drink. She turned to him gave him a warm smile and a wink. He tried to return it, but it fell short of comfort. Clary instantly knew something was wrong. She approached him nervously, running her fingers down his smooth shirt, leaned in and whispered in his ear.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me." She pulled back, slightly pouting. It made him smile.

"I just don't like seeing you dancing like that with another man. My hands are the only ones I want on your body."

Clary threw her head back, laughing. Jace was astonished. The situation was in no means funny to him.

She turned to Simon.

"You were right! It did piss him off", she exclaimed. Simon smiled, approaching them. Clary shook her head, a small smile plaguing her lips. She returned to the bar and reached over it to tell the bartender her drink order.

While her back was turned, Jace attacked Simon.

"What the fuck was that, leech?"

"I gave you a taste of your own medicine. Maybe you will remember what that felt like the next time one of your concubines comes to you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear". He grabbed a Bloody Mary off the counter, and walked into the crowd.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Jace and Clary walked down the stairs to the subway platform hand in hand. The night had ended quickly, and although it started off a little rough, Jace had in fact enjoyed himself. He'd spent the rest of the night, dancing with Clary, restraining himself the whole time not to take her back the Magnus' room and break his promise to the Angel, taking Clary has his, over and over again. The incident with Simon on the dance floor just added fuel to the fire. He couldn't get the image of her and Simon together on the dance floor. Sure, before, when the two were together, trying out their "relationship", it bugged Jace. But tonight was different. Simon was different, and so was she.

Jace didn't let Clary away from his side for had enjoyed Jace's undivided attention throughout the evening, secretly thanking Simon for the little 'show' earlier. Jace took good care of Clary, dancing with her, whispering seductive things to her all night. She was pretty sure her planned seduction for later that night would produce her much wanted results and she couldn't wait to get home to finally be with Jace in the most intimate way.

As they waited for the train, Isabelle pulled Jace aside and began to whisper into his ear at a fast pace. Clary could tell she was pissed about something and Jace usually was the one she would take it out on, especially when Alec wasn't around. Of course, he was staying with Magnus tonight.

Although Isabelle was trying to corner Jace's attention with her latest dramatic issues, his eyes never left Clary. He watched her intently. But her attention was elsewhere.

Clary watched Simon stand alone against a tiled column. He looked a little sad, or maybe forlorn. She approached his side, grabbing his hand.

"What's up doc? You look… thoughtful. Can I pick your brain?"

"You know what Maia did before we met you guys outside the club?"

"No, what?"

"She kissed me."

"Well, you are devastatingly attractive, and that really doesn't surprise me,"Clary said with a giggle. She thought for sure her wit would crack a smile, but nothing. Simon just stared down the dark whole of the subway, looking like he was contemplating the universe.

"So what? Two great girls think you are hot, what's the big deal?" she stepped in front of him, trying to break his gaze.

"You know how I feel about Isabelle. I like Maia too, a lot actually. It's just complicated." He continued to stare blankly in front of hi, as if Clary was not even there. His answers sounded robotic, and for the first time, he didn't seem alive, but dead; dead as a vampire. Clary shuttered.

With a loud clutter, the train approached, cutting off their conversation. Jace took the opportunity to grab Clary around the waste and pulled her into the car. He sat down, pulling her onto his lap. Simon sat on a bench to himself, as did Isabelle. Neither one of them looking at each other.

Clary, however, found Jace's neck and thought it was extremely interesting. She lavished him with kisses, curling Jace's toes with desire. Momentarily, Jace's beef with Simon, with Isabelle, with the entire world disappeared, and it was as if just him and Clary existed, nothing else. His hands slowly started moving up her thigh, gently flirting with the hem of her short dress. Jace heard a low growl, and his lust for her went into spiral mode.

"Clary, don't do that or I will seriously take you right here and now," he whispered in her ear. She pulled away from him, her eyes smoldering with lust and want.

"What?" she asked quietly. The growl sounded again.

"Jeez Simon! You just had about a vat of Bloody Mary's at the party! Are you really that thirsty you have to growl?" Isabelle spat. _All seductively too, damn it, _Simon thought_. _

"I didn't --" he started, but he was cut off by another ferocious sound. The growling became more intense, deeper, and closer.

Jace was on his feet in a flash, as was Simon. They turned to the back of the car. The whole back car was filled with Seether demons, at least ten, all approaching in the swaying, synchronized crouch of blood thirsty hunters.

Isabelle's whip was in her hand, as Clary pulled both knifes from their sheaths. Simon small, pointed fangs plunged out of their hidden compartment in the back of his regular teeth and he pulled a small miniature sword from the back of his jeans. He stepped in front of Isabelle protectively, instinctively.

Jace moved at a cat-like pace, half crouched to spring, placing himself at the head of the group, two seraph blades glowed in his hands.

"Littttllle angel boyeeee," the Seether demons hissed in unison. "Thissssss, we are afraid, issss a retrieval party."

"Retrieval?" But before Jace could question any further, the demons forced an attacked.

With a growl, Simon leaped head first into the crowd of demons, lashing out with his sword. He had decapitated two demons before he even touched the ground. He landed behind the group of blood-drenched, reeking, soulless creatures, taking one on as it lashed out towards him with razor-sharp claws.

Jace was faster than lightening as he rushed the first three demons. His blades moved effortlessly, slashing and ripping at the onslaught.

The girls stood back as the last line of defense. Isabelle whipped out at two demons that bee-lined it straight for them, once the boys were busy. She caught one by the ankle, pulling him upwards and tying the whip quickly on the metal bars that hung on the ceiling of the subway car. She pulled a knife from her thigh and plunged it deep into its chest. Ichor spilled from the demons chest; he vanished quickly.

At the same time, the other demon lunged for Clary. She was ready with both blades in hand. Her movements were fast and efficient, slicing at the demon.

To her surprise, this demon seemed faster than the others in the car, just like the one she fought in the alley with Simon. He, also, was healing incredibly fast. She would slice him with every advance, but he would quickly heel and attack.

She barely had time to register this when she felt herself being flung across the car; the demon aimed a well placed kick into her chest sending her crashing into three sets of seats, flattening them as she flew. Pain, unlike Clary had felt in a long time, surged through her body. She knew several things were broken. Blood trickled from her mouth and her head felt like it would split in two. Her vision blurred as she tried to sit up. She smelt it before she saw it. The demon was in her face, hissing and laughing. He roughly picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

The train stopped and the demon leaped from the car with Clary in tow. She screamed, kicking and fighting the entire time.

Isabelle saw what was happening and screamed for Jace. He picked his head up from the carcass of the last Seether demon breathing on the train, just in time to see the demon leave with Clary.

The three of them chased after Clary; Jace's heart was beating rapidly, nausea overcoming him. _I can't loose her, not like this, not now. He promised. The Angel promised me. _

He chased after her until he felt like his lungs were going to explode. His whole life, whole sole depended on finding her, rescuing her from the clutches of the evil that consumed her very flesh. He felt like he would die inside, like part of his soul would shatter the very moment she was harmed in anyway. He was almost crazy to the point of insanity with the urge to rescue her from her captive.

He saw the demon escaping from him into the darkness of the tunnels beyond. Jace's pace was fast, his one purpose of being.

_Why? _Why did he wait to claim her, to take her as his own, to consume her, like he was a ravenous demon himself whose only existence was dependant on her body and soul, the very feel of her warm skin upon his?

He could not think of anything until she was safe in his arms, only that she was in peril danger, and that he wanted her away from that which had threatened her.

He ran fast, beating heart and beating lungs, faster and faster her ran. The air whooshed in his lungs; he couldn't be quick enough.

Somehow, the demon ran faster; almost as if the demon wad being driven by some evil power, his movements were precise and controlled. This wasn't just an average, everyday Seether demon; this one was highly trained and enhanced in someway.

Jace knew right then and there that someone wanted Clary, almost as much as he wanted her himself. He knew that if he did not reach her, she would be in peril, more then she had ever been before.

_A retrieval party_, that is what the demon had said. The clutches of doom threatened Jace's every move, every decision in his pursuit after Clary. If he made a mistake or a false judgment, it could mean her determent. He knew that if he did not find her in the next several minutes he would loose her, the existence of his being. Only then did he realize how much she had meant to him.

Of course, he knew that he had never felt anything remotely close to how he felt for her before. Every other women he'd had paled in comparison to her; her crimson hair so tempting and luscious, her full lips, pouting and calling for him, her petite and muscular frame, bending and fighting to be by his side. He knew that they were meant to be together, meant to be.

_The Angel was right._

The tunnel bridged off, ending in a wall, a dead end. The demon turned. Clary was seemingly lethargic and exhausted from the fight, her right arm dripping blood and sweat.

The demon hissed, "Why do you fight for her, young blood? You know that he would go to the endssssss of earth for her. Ssssshe issss hissss rightful mate. And we will rule the Earth once he hassss taken her".

Jace stood, panting and wanting Clary in his arms more now than ever before.

"I will not stop fighting for her. She is mine and only mine. Your master is mistaken. She belongs to me and only me. The Angel has told me so. I have lived up to his word, and not taken her for my own until tonight. Those were his words and only they shall matter in time; the words of Heaven, itself. Do you even know who you fight for?" Jace replied, out of breath and out of time. He knew Clary's existence depended on his words now. He knew, only by what the Angel had told him that day on the beach, that this is what was meant to be said.

"Very well," the demon hissed, flinging an unconscious Clary to the side. "You will fight for her."

With that, the demon lunged at Jace just as quickly as Sebastian had been that day by the lakeside. Jace's suspicions that something was different about this demon deepened in that split second it took the demon to attack. His stomach turned at what he thought could possibly be behind it. Jace fought hard, more then he had ever fought before. He lunged, both seraph blades in his hands, but the demon would dodge his advances in the knick of time. Jace's concentration was split; he was concerned about Clary, hoping that she was safely out of the way of the battle raging around her. The only relief Jace felt was knowing that Simon and Isabelle were behind him and would be there to aide Clary in mere moments.

The demon was well trained and deadly accurate in his attack. He parried and lunged away from Jace's blows. He was fast, faster then Clary, faster then Sebastian, faster then anyone Jace had ever faced. Only his father, his would-be father, Valentine, had ever caught him of guard as this Seether demon.

As he fought, he racked his brain. _How can he be this fast? How can he be this ruthless. I know the answer. _Jace continued to fight, but the demon always met him head on. Breathlessly, mercifully, he heard Simon and Isabelle approaching. The demon seemed to hear them too, for he withdrew quickly into the shadows. Simon made to go after it, but Jace stopped him quickly.

"Don't," he panted. "Let it go." Simon turned back reluctantly.

Jace panted, leaning over Clary's bleeding and still body, wanting to know if she was alright, if she was still with him in the living.

Thankfully, heavenly, she opened her eyes and began gulping in the cool night air. She was bleeding from several cuts upon her arms and torso. She looked heavily into Jace's eyes and panted, "Jace…"

He held her to his body; the unsettling knowledge that she was the object of an unknown psychopath's wet dreams burned a whole in his chest. He felt an intense sense of possessiveness overtake him as he thought of someone else taking Clary from him.

He never felt so passionate, so enthralled with anything in his entire life. He knew his purpose in life was to protect her. _What else would the Angel's words have meant?_

She reached for her stele, wanting to heal her wounds. Her hands shook with uncontrollable pain, the multiple fracture screaming at her as the adrenaline faded from her body.

Jace grabbed the stele from her, and drew the Iratze ruin to heal her body.

He picked her up in his arms and carried her to safety, Simon and Isabelle unceremonious bodyguards behind them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**The Angel's prophecy is coming shortly. There is bonus material on my profile page. Check it out!**


	7. Chapter 6 The Seelie Queen

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Chapter six - The Seelie Queen

"What the hell Maia?" Isabelle was getting more and more frustrated by the second, fully entertaining Jace and Clary as they looked on from across the table.

"I swear to all that is holy, if you don't learn to use a napkin and eat like a human being I am going to vomit all over the place!" She watched Maia eating a raw hunk of meat with nothing but her bare hands, juice and blood dripping from the corners of her mouth and coating each finger in a pink sheen.

Maia was thoroughly enjoying herself; she was never the one to care what anyone thought of her, especially Isabelle, and especially lately.

She slurped and gnawed her way threw the steak, exchanging glances with Isabelle from the corner of her eye and smiling each time Isabelle looked like she was turning green.

"Okay, enough." Alec, always the voice of calm, reason, and control, boasted from across the booth at Taki's. Jace had relayed Merlion's message about the Seelie Queen's requested choice for the faerie representative on the team. The whole crew was adjourned to discuss the potential appointment and any concerns there of.

"The consensus is that we meet with her to see who she is recommending to the Clave, right?" Alec scanned everyone's face's to see if that was still the majority opinion.

Jace nodded.

Clary smiled.

Magnus was examining his brightly pink fingernails and sighed "that's my thinking, honey bun."

Simon was chuckling under his breath as he watched Maia continue to lap up the left over drizzles of blood and juice off her plate, while all Isabelle could mutter was, "I am seriously going to vomit."

"There, I am done," Maia declared as she placed her well-licked plate down on the table. "Hand me a napkin and I will behave myself, alright?" Isabelle just rolled her eyes, then scrunched up her nose as if she was smelling cooked cauliflower as Maia dug the leftover meat from between her fingernails.

"That is fucking disgusting," Isabelle muttered.

"For the love of God, you pansy ass. Will you calm the fuck down?" Maia exclaimed, slamming her hands down on the table sharply. "You know Iz, if you're really good, I will help you get your panties out of a twist and pull out that lump of coal in your ass. You've been working on that diamond you got wedged up there for a while now and I am sure its done forming." she fumed as she grabbed a white cloth napkin from in front of Isabelle and gingerly wiped the corners of her mouth.

Jace and Simon laughed. Isabelle glared at both of them; the look could have kill an elephant. Their hysteria died down quickly.

"I'm surprised you even know what a napkin is, to be honest," Isabelle retorted, crossing her arms over her well-endowed chest. "It seems you don't know what a shower is, or a washing machine for that matter." She eyed Maia with a look of disgust and indignation.

"Wow! Really? Seriously?" Maia asked, amused. "Man, I didn't think that my kissing you would've had this effect. It seems that I've gotten under your skin. Its alright, though. I am sure that there are a couple guys in this town you haven't fucked yet. They could wipe away any fantasies about me you are struggling with. Meanwhile, I think Simon and I are quite happy to offer you a condolence package. Since neither one of us are willing to sleep with you, we'll be sure to visit you in your wet dreams," Maia retorted with a smile and a wink at Simon.

Alec looked like all hell was about to break loose. He knew that the wrath of God himself would pale in comparison to Isabelle.

Simon froze with a blank expression of utter shock on his face, looking like a sprite had just came out of the shadows, plopped onto the table, and declared her undying love for him.

Clary dropped her head in her hands. _Why, oh why is this happening?_ She knew that she would inevitably be in the middle of some epic battle between two incredibly jealous and veraciously strong women in heat.

Magnus was completely oblivious, concentrating on his hands as if all of Earth's unanswered mysteries resided in the cracks below his fingernails.

All Jace did was smile, lean back against the back of the booth , stretch his arms out the length, and enjoyed the show.

"This is going to be fun," he leaned over and whispered to Clary, earning him a sharp kick from beneath the table.

Isabelle stared at Maia, completely flabbergasted at the absolute nerve of this girl she sat with. No one had dared speak to her like that. If anyone deserved to get their ass kicked, it was this twerp of a bitch beside her.

It was almost as if you could see the pure fury boiling inside her, like the lava churning away inside a volcano, undulating and building up until it had enough force to finally emerge to the surface, unleashing is inescapable wrath on the unsuspecting villagers below. Her face was burning red, her hands clenched in tight fists, her lips smashed together in a straight line, and the muscles of her jaw protruding. And then, the dam exploded…

"If you honestly think that you are cute enough to even turn anyone's head, believe me, you need more then a fucking bar of soap to wash your delusions away. As far as your eating habits go, you are an absolute fucking pig and need to be trapped in a zoo for further observation and study. Maybe the zoologists there can render their opinion as to what is really wrong with you. As for me, I am going with the possibility that you have fleas. Maybe you are so deluded because you can't think straight with all the creepy crawling all over your fur. Or no, _maybe _you keep them as pets. Did you name one after your mother? Maybe a favorite teacher? An ex-boyfriend? Awwww, I see! That is why you don't take a shower, because you will wash away the only living thing that is pathetic enough to touch your stank ass, roach invested, body. As for my sex life, the details of which would stun even Jenna Jameson back to the stone ages, will have absolutely nothing to do with a flea-invested dog. So go fetch a bone, or a fish, which ever you prefer. But please….. Please do not take them out for dinner cause the way you eat will seriously make them VOMIT!"

Silence.

Complete and utter silence consumed the war zone that was once known as Taki's diner.

Clary's jaw was on the floor, as was Simon's.

Jace just merely smirked, looking between each of the battling vixens that sat across the table, poor Simon in the middle. Alec was exasperated, his head on the table, knowing that the meeting was over and there was a lot more to hash out then there was before.

Maia fumed. She glared at Isabelle. Isabelle steamed towards Maia. Both women were on a stare down that could last the ages. Both women not willing to concede.

It was Magnus, who had finally decided to be a witness to the madness being displayed, that broke the silence.

"Ladies. I for one am done with the cat fight for now. Although is was highly entertaining, I do not feel like pulling you two apart as you try to rip each other's clothes off. Some men might find that incredibly erotic, but I just find it simply nauseating. You want to see vomit? I can show you many different shades and textures. Now, kiss and make up so we can get this day over with. Off we go to the Seelie Queen!" With that, Magnus stood from the table and turned to exit the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After much coaxing, debating, more insults and half-apologies, the group made it to the Seelie Court.

They met Merloin at the bottom of the lake that served as the entrance into the faerie underground. He introduced himself to Maia, Magnus and Alec and then proceeded to lead them to the court, where the Seelie Queen held council. Isabelle quickly joined the faerie knight, linking her arm in his and started giggling as he whispered something in her ear.

"Slut," Maia mumbled, eyeing Isabelle's swaying back with contempt.

Jace and Alec had been hesitant to bring the whole group down to the Seelie Court. It was well known that the Fey practiced in entrapment and enslavement. They'd used any means necessary to lure unsuspecting victims into their traps of seduction and pleasure. The last time they'd been there, they practically had to wrestle Simon away from being lured into enslavement by the faeries' tricks.

The further the crew went into the faerie encampment, the more temptations occurred. It seemed that the fairies were pulling out all the stops in order to entice one of them to stay as a permanent member of the fey. It took both Magnus and Alec to pull Simon through one corridor that had five naked faerie women dancing seductively, with promises of earth shattering orgasms and undying love.

At last, they entered a large circular room with tapestries of the finest silk in earth tone colors that dripped from every point of the ceiling and walls. Vines of the sweetest grapes hung in bunches from the walls. The Seelie Queen lay on a large silk pillow in the middle of the room. She was surrounded by courtiers and guardsmen.

At first, she did not look at the group when they walked in, but instead looked over to a shadow in the corner of the room. She lifted to fingers and made a gesturing movement. Something moved out of the shadows and made its approach towards them, answering the Queen's call.

At first glance, Clary thought it was a servant. She discovered that, once the subject stepped into the soft faded light of the room, he was not a faerie, but a young human boy. He was emaciated, his bones protruding from his ribs and face. He looked minutes from death, but on his face he whore and expression of true adoration and admiration. He looked at the Seelie Queen as if she was the source for the air he breathed, the water he drank. She slyly rubbed his bony cheek, then pointed to the five cups of pink liquid which sat in front of her, half drained. The boy shuffled over and picked them up to get them refilled.

The Seelie Queen raised her head in acknowledgement of her audience. She pointed to the cushions in front of her as an invitation for them to sit. The human boy came back at that moment with fresh cups of juice for the group.

Maia reached for the cup, but was stopped quickly by Simon. Their eyes met and he shook his head slightly and mouthed 'trust me'.

"Oh, let her drink it," Isabelle mumbled. Alec interrupted before things could get heated again.

"My lady, we are hear to discuss your appointment for the faerie representative of our hunting team. Merloin has told Jace that you have spoken to the Clave, is that correct?"

But the Seelie Queen did not answer. She stared at Jace with a small smile on her face, one that made Clary feel very uncomfortable. Suddenly, she didn't want to be there, in any proximity to the faerie queen. She remembered with much bitterness and vile the day the queen tricked her into kissing Jace, even though they thought they were siblings. She didn't like the Queen's trickery then, and was sure she'd have more up her sleeve this time around.

"Do you have the person in question here so we can meet them?" Alec tried to engage the queen again, but she continued to stare at Jace.

"My lady, who is your choice to represent the fey?" Jace asked numbly. The Queen's smile thickened and her eyes slit. She made on wave with her hand. A beautiful fey women stepped into view from behind the chiffon tapestry.

She was tall and elegant. She moved with grace, like the gentle breeze of a spring afternoon. She smelled of lilacs and sunshine. Her body was lean with just the right amount of curves and angles. Her features were perfect, lovely. Her gaze was fixed on Jace with an all too telling smile that curved the edges of her mouth. Clary had seen that smile. She knew it well.

"Vixie," Jace mumbled. He looked upon the Seelie Queen with consternation. They all prepared for the Queen to pull some sort of trick from her sleeve. But to suggest Vixie as a representative, that was a blatant move towards turmoil and conflict on her part.

"You've got to be kidding," Isabelle seethed. "She is not going to be approved."

"Its nice to see you again as well, Isabelle," Vixie hissed, her neon yellow eyes leaving Jace's face for one second to glare in Izzy's direction.

"We are not going to add a member to our team who will only cause conflict and discomfort," Alec addressed the Queen, but she continued to smile and look upon Jace.

Jace, however, was looking at the floor, playing with his fingers, with a look of deep thoughtfulness. Clary knew he was trying to find the angles, the reason for the appointment.

She felt confused. By the look on Vixie's face, she knew that there was some sort of history between her and Jace, that much she was certain about. What she didn't understand is why Isabelle and Alec were reacting the way they were. Why were _they_ uncomfortable? As if her thoughts were being heard, she found her answers.

"You expect us to trust and fight beside the bitch who tortured my brother? Who almost tricked and trapped him in this god-forsaken place for all eternity, just so she could make him some sort of sex slave?" Isabelle stood, irate.

Clary's heart fell. She was never told about this, about any of it.

_How could he keep something like this a secret? This crazy fey bitch tortured him? Sex slave? _

She looked at Jace and knew why by the expression on his face. He looked angry, furious, ashamed and …. vulnerable. She took his hand and squeezed. He returned the pressure and looked up to meet the Queen's gaze.

"It will not be approved," he said flatly.

"It already has been," the Queen returned, speaking for the first time.

"I will speak with the Silent Brothers. It will not be beneficial for us to fight with one we cannot trust."

"Vixie has learned from her mistakes. She will not try to trick or undermine this group. It is far too important for the Children of the Fey to be allies with the Clave. She will keep her distance." The Queen's gaze pierced through Jace. He sat in utter silence, staring at her, trying see the hidden meaning behind her half-truth. Finally, he spoke.

"Why her? We'll take Merloin."

"My knight's services are required elsewhere. Vixie is a formidable fighter. She will serve you well."

"Her loyalty cannot be to me or Alec, or even just the Clave. She must speak her loyalty to every member of this group. We fight as a team".

"A team? And what about those amongst your team who fight and bicker with each other? It does not seem to me that your team is well controlled, my young Shadowhunter."

Alec was on his feet now. His fists clenched and face slightly red. "We have fought the battle of good and evil together. Everyone here has pulled their weight and more. We may be young, but we are loyal, no matter what childish, petty grudges we may hold," Alec said through clenched teeth.

Both Isabelle and Maia exchanged a look. In that one exchange, there was apology and forgiveness. They would all need to be on their guard, protecting each others backs if this appointment held true.

At that moment, Vixie met Clary's eyes.

"I give my undying loyalty to this team. I will not betray the feelings of love between any members and I will not play against those feelings. I promise to protect each members life as if it were my own."

Silence filled the cavern. Since faeries could not lie, Vixie's proclamation resounded strong and promising. Still, it was the fey children who were inventors of half-truths. They could spin the truth, bend it to meet their needs and hide any fallacy.

Simon reached his arm around Clary. He meant it as comfort, as a gesture that he would not let anything hurt her again, including Jace and his racy past with women, this woman. He meant it as reassuring, which it was to Clary, but it made Jace see green. His face betrayed a flicker of jealousy before he could tame his reaction; the Queen did not miss it.

The group began to rise from their seats. Isabelle approached Clary to embrace her and start the explanations as chatter and small conversations broke out. Vixie timidly joined the group, making introductions to Simon, Maia, and Magnus.

Jace stayed seated, his eyes locked on the Queens.

"What is your motivation?" he accused.

"She will have a child," the Queen whispered.

"What?"

"It has been preordained. I know that the Angel told you this."

"How.."

"He wants her. That is his plan." Her eyes left Jace to gaze upon Simon's arm around Clary shoulders, her head lay upon his chest. Jealousy and anger flared in the pit of his stomach.

_He wants her_.

"If he is to meet his goal, the hope the Angel spoke of will be tainted with demon blood."

"I am not sure I understand you," Jace questioned.

"Are you so mundane that you cannot recall a simple memory? Perhaps I shall show you." With a flash as quick as lightening, she was next to Jace, pressing her slim fingers to his temple. Suddenly, Jace felt like he was falling. His vision collapsing around him, like a black shroud was being pulled in front of his eyes.

Blackness.

Darkness.

Nothing.

No feeling.

Nothing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sudden brightness.

Blinding sunlight.

He felt a gentle breeze, the smell of juniper in the air. He felt at home, comforted in a familiar way.

He looked around to find what he could recognize. To his right, Clary lay asleep on a blanket underneath a willow tree. She looked calm, at peace.

In that moment, he knew where he was, when he was.

He was in Idris. And it was the night before they left for the city.

In front of him, a lake. The surface started to gently ripple. His breath caught, knowing what he would see in mere moments.

The vision was so hard to take in the first time around. Blindingly beautiful and terrifying at the same time, the Angel Ithuriel rose from the depth of the Lake.

He was not in pain, he was not diminished. He was returned to his previous form of glory and power.

His golden hair, much like Jace's, rippled in the gentle breeze. His massive white and golden tipped wings expanding behind him. His white-gold skin twinkled softly in the afternoon sun. His golden gaze locked with Jace's.

His mouth did not move, but Jace could hear his musical cry as he had before.

_Son of Heaven, I implore you to listen. There are events that are to happen that were set in motion long ago, before there was air to breath. 'For we are the clay, and He is the potter.'_

Tears weld in Jace's eyes. His breath caught and he listened hard.

_Believe me. Hear me. I was sent here with a gift and a message._

Jace stopped breathing, he stopped moving. He knew what was to come, but did not understand it.

_She is yours_

He started breathing, short rapid breaths, tears flowing down his face.

_Made for only you. _

His heart pounded in his chest, almost too loud to hear the Angel's words.

_You both will parent hope for the future. But sacrifice is necessary for the Will of Heaven to come to pass._

The Angel's gaze hardened, beseeching Jace to listen.

_There are sins, my son._

_Those by you…_

_Those by her…_

_Those by her Father._

_They will stop the grace from flourishing._

_Heaven grants free will, my son. You will decide to follow Heaven, or the sins of the Father._

Jace had questions; hundreds, thousands of questions for the Angel. What did it mean? Hope? Parent?

But it was almost as if he could not control his actions. As if he was in his body, a couple months ago in Idris, but could not control what was said. The words he spoke to the Angel spilled out without his permission.

"What must I do?"

_Do not take her flesh as your own_

Jace started panting. He knew he had struggled, even been angry that he was unable to be with Clary, that the Angel had forbade it for now. But he found a slight comfort in the next.

"She will not wait. I will not wait. If you tell me that she is mine, ordained by Heaven's design, why should we wait?"

'_Love is patient'_

"That is not enough. She will be persistent. I have had other flesh. She will think something is wrong. She will hate me."

'_Love is kind'_

"That's not enough!"

_It is not forever, my child. _

'_Listen, my son, to a father's instruction; pay attention and gain understanding'_

"Understanding?"

'_Blessed is the man who preserves under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised'_

"And what is His promise? Fatherhood? And how is that to come to be? Shall I wait for divine intervention or simply depend on osmosis for that to occur?"

The Angel smiled, a warm and loving smile. He held out his hand and in it, two perfect rings; one a bit smaller then the other. Jace was stunned, as much so as he had been before, the first time he heard the revelation. He looked down unto the gift with stunned disbelief. He was only seventeen, and Clary was only sixteen. Surely, he didn't mean for marriage.

_It is the Will of Heaven_

'_Sons are a heritage from the LORD. Children a reward from him.'_

"And my reward?"

_You will know. _

_Give her my gift first, then you can take her as your own._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Questions? Comments? The plot only gets better from here. Hang on, it's gunna be a fun ride!**


	8. Chapter 7 Alliance

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Chapter seven ~ Alliance

Jace came to, surrounded by worried glances and looks of frustration and angst. He smiled; the memory of the Angel's promise still fresh on his mind.

His eyes widened slightly as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He was searching for the one face he needed to see now more than ever, the one face that would pull him through any turmoil, the one face that had sacrificed everything for what she believed in and for who she loved.

Clary.

Their eyes locked as Jace's vision came into focus.

In that moment, the one where the earth stood still, where his heart and passion where met with such love and admiration, he felt home and at peace. At peace with who he was and what he was meant to do. His heart was filled with love, devotion, and ultimate hope that he was meant to be, he had a purpose, as did she.

His one true love.

The one who was made for him.

She was his.

And he was hers.

There were so many questions, unanswered quandaries that needed to be explained before this night was done.

Was this the night?

Was it meant to be?

Would he give her the gift from Heaven?

All he could think of now was that she was in danger, their future that the Angel had promised, was in danger if _he_ had his way.

"Jace, honey? Are you okay?" the angel, his own person angel asked in concern; her voice sounded in the darkness, the confusion. She touched his face and it lingered, radiating from his temple to his jaw.

Suddenly, he noticed he was not laying in the Queen's courtroom, but underneath the fading sunlight, the moon slightly making an appearance in the sky. The grass beneath him was wet and cold.

"Where am I?" he asked confusedly, looking around his surroundings to gain his bearings. Clary finally released the breath she had been holding.

"You are outside," she confirmed quickly. "Oh Jace, I don't know what happened. One minute we were getting ready to leave, then the next you were on the floor. That damn queen was standing above you and all hell broke loose. Simon picked you up and we left that horrible place as quickly as we could."

Jace looked at her, astonished. Then, his eyes met Simon's.

The vampire had his arm rested around Clary's back, the small of her back, right above her curves. The gesture was meant to comfort, but Jace now knew his plan.

_He wants her_.

He would not allow their hope, their divine destiny for each other to be tainted; tainted with 'demon filth'.

His eyes froze on Simon's hand loosely draped around Clary's backside, wide and full of anger. He stared entranced by anger as he watched Simon's thumb rub small circles on the slight patch of skin peeking out of Clary's shirt. Jace growled and was on his feet in an instant.

"Get your damn hands off her!" he yelled at Simon.

"Whoa," Simon backed up, both hands up with palms forward in attempt to settle down the situation.

"Jace!" Clary yelled. "What is your problem? Are you feeling alright?"

"Feeling alright? I am out of it for one damn second and as soon as I come to, your _friend_ here is feeling you up. NO, I am not alright!"

Alec appeared in the middle of the confrontation, both hands on Jace's chest trying to calm him down and keep him from attacking one of the members of his hunting party. He was becoming severely frustrated with having be play "mommy" all the time, breaking up feuding members of the team.

Magnus sat back and watched with a devilish grin on his face as his boyfriend tried to play referee.

Isabelle sat and scowled at Vixie, who was talking to Maia off to the side, completely ignoring the confrontation like it was something she saw everyday. Well, Maia kind of did, lately anyway.

"Feeling me up?" Clary asked, slightly taken aback. "Jace, what are you talking about? Simon just saved you from whatever that bitch of a Queen was doing to you down there. How could you even think --" In a sudden flash of movement, Vixie was in Clary's face, cutting off what she was trying to say.

"You will not speak of my Queen so foully, little angel girl, or I will have your face on my mantle," Vixie spat, her fingers clutched in tight fists.

Instead of backing down and being intimidated, like the old Clary most certainly would have been, she stood in full force in front of Vixie. It was almost as if she felt a burning power inside her chest, the same something that formed when she fought powerful demons or when she created ruins. Her eyes glinted and narrowed with power and blood lust. She spoke with raw energy and unyielding strength.

"You get out of my face or I will show you what the Angel has blessed me with," Clary seethed, rising to her full height. "You do not know the power of my wrath. You do _not_ speak to me again unless I address you. For I will smite those you do not recognize their rightful place." As quickly as it came, Clary's furry at Vixie disappeared. She was left panting and slightly weakened.

Everyone was motionless, staring at Clary like they had just seen a ghost, or one of their friends completely wig-out like she was possessed.

Vixie took several steps back. On her face she wore an expression of anger that was slightly controlled by fear.

"Ummm, yeah. Well, that was weird." Magnus, the only one who could have possibly been able to form a coherent sentence at this point, approached Clary with an aire of complete oblivion. "Too much pepperoni on your pizza or what? You really looked kinda kinky though."

"Magnus --". Alec placed his hands in his head. His wheels turning; apparently there was even more to address with his loosely bonded group then before. His head started pounding. Maybe he should start forming a list of issues.

"Clary," Jace grabbed her arm and lead her away from the group. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah… I don't know what that was. I just got really angry and felt really…really….I don't know…pissed, I guess."

"Damn girl, you about scared me to death," Jace sighed, pulling Clary into his chest tightly. "I thought maybe the Queen did something to you. Why were you so mad?"

"I am not sure what happened," Clary spoke into Jace's chest. "I just cant stand her being that close to you, or to me for that matter. Just looking at her makes me so damn mad." She glared in the direction of Vixie, who was blatantly ignoring both her and Jace. She could feel a slight version of the power she experienced before start forming in her chest again. Her fists clenched and her teeth mashed together.

"Hey," Jace grabbed her arm. "Calm down. She isn't going to do anything. She is old news."

"Oh yeah? What kind of news Jace?" Clary spat, shoving Jace away with suprising strength, catching Jace off guard and causing him to stumble back a few steps. "Damn it! I am so sick and fucking tired of these damn hoe bags who you have floating around you all the damn time. And then, you have the gall to attack Simon for comforting me cause I was worried about YOU!"

"Hey, wait a minute," Jace spoke quickly, reaching out to rub his hands along Clary's quivering sides. "Look, I am sorry for attacking Simon. I'll be good, okay? And I am sorry about my past. I really didn't care about anything or anyone until I met you. It was my mistake and I will have to do the penance for it. But please, know that I love you and don't want anyone but you. You are my life, love and future for all time."

Clary stood there seething for several moments. Jace remained silent, allowing Clary time to calm down. Slowly, she took a few hesitant steps back into Jace's warm embrace. Clary eased into his arms, comforted and appeased…. for now.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was decided that Jace and Alec would address the Silent Brothers in the City of Bones. For the betterment of the entire group, and for Jace's sanity, they needed to confirm Vixie's appointment by the Clave and/or petition for her replacement.

Before Valentine's death, he'd managed to invade the City of Bones and wipe out the entire population of brethren, known as the Silent Brothers, in order to obtain the Mortal Sword. They were a highly intelligent, mystical, and powerful coven of the Clave, whose lives were devoted to silence and servitude. In dedication to their way of life, they would Mark their bodies with powerful ruins, so powerful that it would leave their bodies mutilated.

After the death of the previous inhabitants of the City of Bones, the Clave sent several brothers from the covenant in Idris to start reforming in New York. It was these elders who Jace and Alec would petition for a new faerie appointment.

They approached the cemetery that housed the entrance to the City of Bones, but where quickly halted in their request for admission.

They didn't hear him approach, nor did they sense him. But he stepped from the shadows, dressed from head to toe in a parchment colored robe, outlined heavily with dark red ruins. His head was hooded and his hands were hidden by his sleeves.

Simultaneously, the group heard a voice in their head. It started as a whisper, but became louder and more resolute as the robed man approached.

"I am Brother Hezekiah. I have been waiting for you. It seems that you are not happy with the choice of the Clave. Speak now your concerns."

It was Alec who addressed him first, "We have history with the faerie. She is deceitful and maleficent. She has not earned our trust and therefore in unreliable."

Brother Hezekiah took a further step toward the group and added, "It is the agreement of the Clave that we appoint this young fey as a representative on a trial basis. The Queen was adamant about her appointment and promises no mal-intent."

It was Jace who answered this time, standing by Alec. They formed a solid, united front, and Clary felt very impressed by their demeanor.

"The demons we fight have become stronger and more efficient killers. It seems they are after something specific." He glanced towards Clary. "Unless we can trust our members, how do we fight as a team?"

"You must learn to trust those who call themselves your allies until they have wronged you under that declaration. It is the new Covenant of the Clave that has bound our alliance with Downworlders. Do you want to start this new generation with feelings of mistrust and prejudgment? It seems that she has wronged you in the past, but even Heaven has the power to forgive. Do you think you are above Heaven?"

No one in the group spoke, but all seemed defeated. It was only Magnus who spoke.

"Well, I guess the little vixen stays. Is anyone ready for tea?" They all gave exasperated looks towards Magnus.

"Do you ever take anything seriously?" Maia mumbled.

"Oh, when it comes to fashion, darling, I am always serious," he smirked at Maia with a glint in his eye.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack and a foul smell that filled the cemetery. Jace wheeled around to find a large group of Seether demons, Razeor demons and Eidolon demons fast approaching the group. It was hard to tell how many of them there were; maybe twenty or so. The group was being quickly surrounded, heading off any route for escape.

Jace and Clary both pulled two seraph blades each from hidden sheaths. Simon had his miniature sword in hand and his fangs unsheathed. Isabelle had her golden whip, sure and steady in her hand. Alec had is bow and arrow, along with a long kendjal sword slung to his back. Magnus' hands were a burning blue fire that sparked occasionally. Maia was almost completely transformed into a werewolf, only keeping semi-human form in order to communicate with the group; her teeth bared, ears and claws extended, her eyes a burning yellow. Vixie stood still, straight and narrow as a board. She seemed completely relaxed, not tensed to fight, except in her hand she held a flat golden disk that was razor sharp to the touch.

"Jace?" Alec spoke with alarm but stead fast resolve.

"You take Maia, Magnus and Isabelle. I will take Clary, Simon and Vixie. Spread out and be accountable for your partner." Jace answered.

Quickly, the Shadowhunters pulled out their steele and marked their partner with the Alliance ruin, the one that allowed them to share their powers. Alec marked Magnus. Isabelle marked Maia. Clary marked Simon. Jace marked Vixie.

The effects were instantaneous. Alec felt the power of magic within Magnus. Isabelle felt the absolute strength of Maia. Clary felt the speed and acute senses of Simon. And Jace felt the fortitude and bravery of Vixie. Each Downworlder felt the training and stealth of their Shadowhunter partner. They were a force to be reckoned with.

"We fight in pairs. Those who feel they are faltering, fall back to the center for rest," Alec shouted among the hisses and rattles of the fast approaching demons.

"If they are like the one in the subway, we wont survive," Clary whispered to Jace.

Fear clutched Jace's heart, not for himself, but for Clary. He was afraid that she'd be harmed or taken by this pack of ravenous demons and it terrified him completely.

There was no way they were taking her from him. He and her were meant to be, ordained by Heaven. The raw power and might that ran in his veins surged. He leaped forward, a blitz to attack.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Reviews please!!!**


	9. Chapter 8 Crawling in the Dark

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

***Warning: Content is violent in nature. You've been warned***

Chapter 8 - Crawling in the dark

Jace sprinted forward and planted his right foot on a headstone. Using it to push himself high into the air, he struck three demons with a whip of his blade, decapitating two and slicing one down the middle. Blood and ichor scattered on the ground below him, covering his front in a fine mist of dark reddish-black.

He spun on the spot, ducking low to miss a tail-swipe by a Razeor demon.

He reached up with his blade in a circling motion, slicing precisely and severed the tail completely. Both blades in his hands burned with the force of the heavens. He fought fast and efficient, never missing a strike and dodging every thrust towards him.

The demons were swift and proficient, prepared for his every attack. It seemed that these demon were like those Clary fought before; faster then their predecessors had been.

He lunged forward, injuring two more as they pushed the group apart, attacking on all sides. The demons were quick but Jace matched their every advance.

With a stab of worry, Jace realized that the demons he had injured were regenerating. He fell back to Clary's side, rejoining the group's ranks as the demons slowly started to reform their circle, enclosing any escape from the graveyard.

"They have…. regenerating….. Powers," Jace panted. "And….they are fast….like the one….from the subway."

He turned to Clary, "Stay with Brother Hezekiah. Help him get into the City to warn the Brothers." She nodded and fell back in defense.

Jace glanced to his comrades, each coiled and braced to attack as the onslaught ensued…

**********

Alec and Magnus were cornered by half a dozen Razeor demons, while Isabelle and Maia fought with five Eidolon demons. Simon and Vixie disappeared into the crowd along with Jace, making up their offensive line. Clary fell behind to defend the Silent Brother….

**********

Alec was surrounded by Razeor demons. Their bodies were half centipede, half alligator with a scorpion's tail. They were quick, multi-legged with a round head and a flat snout filled with razor-sharp teeth which were used to tear flesh from bone.

Alec's attacks were matched blow for blow. With Magnus at his side, the pair fought back a huge Razeor demon as it slithered on the attack. Magnus' hands, flaming a deep blue, shot out at the demon in attempt to distract him as Alec made his move. The Shadowhunter jumped over the long back of the demon and trust his sword into its neck. He landed gracefully among the ash signaling the demons demise.

Rapidly, one of the Razeor demons lunged forward and bit him in the arm. He stumbled back with a groan, switched his blade to his uninjured arm and prepared to fight again. With his left arm, he parried and thrust toward his attacker, making contact as one demon slithered past him. One had managed to knock Magnus' off his guard, sending him stumbling a few feet away.

Alec raced to his side to see if he was uninjured. A demon took advantage of his distraction and with its scorpion-like tail, which had spiked barbs laced with poison, flung it crashing downwards, slashing across Alec's back.

He wailed in pain and fell to the ground. Magnus stared at his boyfriend, bleeding and broken. As he watched, blood pooled down the back of Alec's shirt.

Magnus' eyes shot up to meet the demons feral eyes as the remaining creatures approached. He jumped to his feet with a look of pure fury and revenge in his eyes, which were mysteriously turning a fierce, piercing aqua blue.

The wind blew forcefully, whipping his hair around his face as Magnus spread his arms wide. His eyes rolled back into his head until only the whites were visible.

He spoke loud, his voice magnified. His speech was not recognizable, almost as if he was speaking in tongues. But as he spoke, his body was slightly lifted off the ground. White light shone from the palms of his hands and the wind blew more rapidly then before. With one final powerful stanza, the white light shot forward, obliterating all five demons.

He fell to the floor, completely spent. Alec crawled over to him.

"Magnus…."

"I am fine, love. It's just going to take me a minute. That was some serious magic. The spells from the Book of White are incredibly powerful."

Alec was able to pull Magnus only a short distance from the battle. He propped himself up against a headstone and armed himself with his bow and arrow. Panting from the incredible pain coursing through his body, he leaned in to take aim….

***********

Isabelle and Maia found themselves facing five Eidolon demons, who'd taken the form of young, gorgeous and well-built young men.

Since Isabelle and Maia were partners, joined together through the Alliance ruin, they shared a combined strength and stealth. They matched their foes blow for blow. But these demons, too, were stronger then they had been before. They were cunning and deviant, managing to corner the girls into a secluded area of headstones and monuments. Despite the fierce attack-force, the girls fought side by side, almost as if they could read each others moves and respond in a split second.

Maia had fully changed into her wolf form. Her body was elongated with razor sharp claws and fangs. Her eyes were a vicious yellow and a fine layer of fur covered her body. She fell to all fours and sprinted like a hunting lioness towards the closest demon. She pounced, crashing onto her target and plunged her teeth deep into its gullet, ripping it out. Blood and vessels hanging from the piece she held in her mouth, she quickly flung it aside and continued with her kill.

Isabelle used her whip to slice at her enemies, but the regeneration was too fast for her to make any real damage. She flung out her golden whip, trapping one by its neck. It writhed and twitched in agony. She unsheathed a small blade from her boot and jabbed into the demons neck, severing its carotid artery. Blood spilled out everywhere, a fountain of hot steaming red liquid. She ran the blade horizontal across his neck, decapitating him. The body fell to the ground and disappeared into a puff of ash.

As quick as lightening, she was tackled from the side and fell to the ground, knocking her whip and blade out of her hands. Her attacker grabbed her by the neck and slammed her back against a tall headstone.

He stood in front of her, gorgeous and statuesque. He could pass as a Calvin Klein model, except for his blazing acid green eyes.

He reached down to the ground and grabbed Isabelle's whip. With quick force, he flung it around the headstone, trapping Isabelle to it. The thin gold wire tied tight, cutting into her flesh as she struggled to break free.

The demon met her eyes, chuckling low and seductively, coming closer and closer to her. His hands made their way up her inner thighs, grazing the bottom of her laced panties. He knelt closer, smelling of rotten flesh and clotted blood. She closed her eyes as his face approached her. Slowly, he licked along her neck, right along the thread that timed her pulse.

"I can smell the sweet nectar of life beating within you. It will be my utter pleasure to watch you as I suck that life from you," he breathed. She kicked him in the groin with all the force she could muster.

"Fuck you!"

He just chuckled against her skin, "If you insist…"

His clawed-hand slowly traced her lower lip, down her jaw and neck, to her chest. He cupped one of her breasts as he kissed her along her neck, blowing the foul stench of his rotten breath upon her flesh.

Tears were falling from Isabelle's face as she screamed and kicked to free herself, but he held her forcefully along the headstone and the thin wire cut into her arms sending a cascade of red down to her fingertips.

He reached her shirt, tearing the buttons apart and reveling a laced black bra. He used one of his claws and quickly tore the thin fabric apart, leaving her bare-chested and sobbing. Then, he used his index finger, trimmed with a massive six inch claw, to slice a thick cut from the top of one breast to the other.

"Exquisite" he murmured as he bent down to lick the blood that now streamed down the front of her. He placed one knee in between her legs and forced them apart. He reached under her skirt and ripped her thin underwear from her body.

Isabelle screamed and screamed, but no one was near her to help. She was alone….

*************

While Isabelle was trapped on the headstone, Maia was swarmed by two Eidolon demons. She could hear Isabelle screaming and attempted to reach her, but was thwarted on her every advance.

"Don't worry, my love," one hissed at her. "I will be happy to indulge you in the same favor your friend is receiving." He laughed and reached for her face. Maia swiped at him, severing several fingers off his hand.

He turned and growled, "That was not very nice foreplay, my dear," as he aimed a strong kick to the center of her chest. She flung back, crashing threw several headstones and falling to the ground.

She tried to sit up, but had a sharp stabbing pain to her ribs and sternum. The demons chuckled as they approached her, only their acid green eyes shining in the darkness.

Despite the pain, Maia rose to all fours and braced herself for attack. She felt tired and out of breath. She had fought the demons with stealth and accuracy, however, both of her foes were recovering at tremendous speed and the power of the Alliance ruin was failing.

She had at least two broken ribs, a bruised lung, and three broken fingers…that she could tell. Blood oozed from the corners of her mouth and her head felt heavy.

Both demons spread out wide, surrounding her and forcing her to back further into the graveyard and farther away from her comrades.

She heard Isabelle screaming, but couldn't do nothing to get to her. Both the demons laughed.

"It sounds like Jezibah is having fun," one mocked.

"I think I will join him when I we are done here," the other answered….

*************

Clary retreated toward the entrance of the City of Bones. She knew Brother Hezekiah needed to retreat and that she was strong enough to defend him until could escape.

She found him, completely surrounded by the shrouded Seether demons. They hissed and rattled toward the Silent brother, claws bared and teeth sharp.

Clary sprinted toward him, both seraph blades in her hand blazing a dull, bluish light. She jumped into the air, tucking into a spin, landing in front of the Silent Brother, both blades in front of her for guard.

"Brother, are you armed?" Clary panted in his direction.

"_No my child."_

The answer came in her head, but still held all the passion and angst of their situation.

"_I am not a warrior. My fight is with the psyche. Hold them off as long as you can while I attack their mind barriers."_

Brother Hezekiah stepped forward, aligning himself with Clary. He placed his hands to both temples and widened his stance. He started breathing hard as the demons froze in their places.

Clary watched in amazement as the demons all put their heads down simultaneously, as if their minds were being invaded. They started rocking their heads back and forth in unison, a weird humming coming from deep in their throats.

With out warning, Brother Hezekiah fell to his knees. Clary heard a distinct high pitched whistle in her head and then heard Brother Hezekiah's voice.

"_My child, they are too strong for me. They have been taught in the ways of mind control. There is a strong force that breeds them. I cannot…… break them. NO!….. you must not take her. He will kill her! No…..no….." _With that, the Silent Brother fell to his knees and moved no more.

Clary started to become panicked. Her eyes grazed the graveyard, looking for her comrades in arms, but could find no one to come to her aide.

She saw Jace fighting the last ten demons alone, while Alec was shooting his bow and arrow from the sidelines, trying to slow the attack. She watched as he faltered from exhaustion and fell to the ground. Magnus crouched over his boyfriend, whispering enchantments to aide in heeling.

No one seemed to notice Clary's predicament.

She was alone.

Realizing this, she stood up straight and cleared her mind. She closed her eyes, focusing on her heightened senses she received from her link to Simon. She heard them encircling her, she could smell the stench the emanated from their breath and felt the ground as they approached.

As she concentrated, she could feel the raw power building from within her. Like before, she allowed her intense instincts to overcome her, aided by the speed and accuracy of the vampire.

Her eyes sprung open as the demon behind her attacked. She stepped back, plunging her right blade backwards, penetrating the attacking demon squarely in the heart. She quickly pulls out the blade and whipped it around the back of her head, in a counter-clockwise motion, further decapitating the beast. He fell into ash.

Simultaneously, she circled with her left blade towards the front demon, while slicing two more demons to her left. She pulled both blades high above her head and in an 'X' slicing motion, brought both blades across the demon facing her, obliterating him to the next realm.

Three demons remained: two wounded but regenerating quickly. They started circling around her, hissing their frustration at her skill.

They attacked, moving at a pace that would be hard for the human eye to see. But Clary could see their attack and countered gracefully. She leaped out of the path of one, while landing her feet on a grave stone, kicking off and landing a few feet away.

As soon as her feet touched the ground, she felt a sharp pain from behind her head and fell to her knees. The right blade flew from her hand and she coughed a large amount of blood onto the ground. Her head throbbed and ached and her vision started blurring.

"Masssssssster will be pleasssssssed we captured you," the demon hissed in her ear. His long forked tongue snaked out to lick the blood oozing from the back of her head. Clary flicked her left wrist and the tongue landed on the ground with a solid thud.

Clary felt another blow to her mid-back and she crumpled into a heap on the ground. Her eyes closed and she concentrated on not being sick. The pain was excruciating.

The rabid hissing slowly died down. She wasn't sure if the demons were retreating or if she was loosing consciousness.

She opened her eyes and found a pair of legs standing in front of her. She lifted her head to meet the eyes of her savior and gasped. Before her stood a pair of acid green glowing eyes….

*********

The demon reached for Isabelle's face, clasping his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams, as he forced her legs apart.

She did not want to do this. She did not want it to end like this.

She breathed, calmed her sobs and shut her eyes, and tried to forget everything that was going on around her…to her.

She only thought of one person. The one person she would give anything for to be with, right now. To feel safe in his arms…

"Simon…."

She heard a low chuckle, then a sharp hiss and a muffled gurgle. She flung her eyes open.

_He_ was there.

Simon grabbed the back on the demon's head and bit, blood and ichor oozed from around his mouth. The demon shrieked and reached back, throwing Simon off his back. Simon landed on all fours, like a cat and hissed toward the green-eyed fiend.

"Come on, loverboy," the demon coaxed, waving his fingers forward as an invitation to fight. Simon pulled out his sword from the sheath on his side. He looked like an avenging angel, muscles coiled, fangs bared and shirt tight on his blood-drenched body.

He sprung forward like a panther with incredible speed. Simon pulled his sword across the demon's right leg, practically severing it in half. But as soon as his blade left, the skin started to knead itself together.

The demon let out a low hiss of laughter through his teeth.

"Let's see you regenerate from this, asshole," Simon spat. With lightening speed, Simon sliced and diced. A shower of red mist sprayed the air as he pulled his blade across the demon, again and again.

He sliced the left arm, it started to regenerate.

He sliced across his abdomen, it started to regenerate.

He sliced across the demon's face, it started to falter forward.

He sliced across the demon's groin, it fell to its knees.

With one quick movement, Simon swung his blade into the demons forehead, right between his eyes, plunging it so completely that it cut straight through its skull. The demon disappeared into ash around the blade.

Simon quickly approached Isabelle, freeing her from her bonds. She fell into his arms, sobbing and clinging to him.

"You found me," she sobbed. His arms covered her, making her safe in his strong embrace…

***********

Maia was cornered, crouched and coiled in defense of her two pursuers. She listened as Isabelle's screams muffled. She couldn't imagine what her poor friend was going through and wanted to get to her fast, but the demons continued to laugh and cut off her avenue for escape.

A fury built in the center of Maia's chest. She crouched and sprang towards them, knocking one the ground. She bit down onto the face of one of them, ripping half of it away in one swipe. She used her right claw to gouge into the side of his neck. She used all her strength to pull downward, slicing him from neck to his shoulder, blood coating the ground below. She released the twitching body as it disappeared into ash. She looked up to find Vixie finishing off the last Eidolon demon who had taunted her.

Vixie moved gracefully and effortlessly. Maia watched in fascination as the faerie seamlessly moved and lunged in her attacks. The demon fell to his knees before her and disappeared before he fully hit the ground.

Maia's vision was blurred as Vixie approached her.

"Ms. Maia, you are injured. Let me help you over to the wizard," She placed her hands underneath Maia's arm and helped carry her to find the rest of the group….

********

The demon grabbed Clary by the throat and lifted her from the ground. Her fist closed around her only blade and plunged it deep into the Eidolon demon's chest. He looked down at her effort and laughed. He threw her by the throat several yards, sending her body crashing into the trunk of a near by tree. The bark groaned in protest.

He approached her smiling and softly chuckling at his conquest. He bent down to gaze into her eyes, which were now swollen and bleeding.

"So much effort for one so meaningless," he hissed, his hands tracing up her boots towards her calve.

"Although…." he thought menacingly as his hands traveled up her thigh. "He will have quite a lot of fun tainting your innocence."

Clary spat in his face, the only defense she could offer at this point, her body badly broken and bruised. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and brought it down across Clary's face with brute force, shattering her jaw bone.

Blood spilled from her mouth and she felt a couple of teeth were gone. She looked up to him and met his smug and victorious stare.

"Maybe….I should taint your innocence, while I have you so helpless in my grasp." He leaned forward towards Clary's head, a wicked grin on his face and his eyes narrowed in lust and desire.

She closed her eyes, refusing to feel anything at this point. She felt a gentle breeze and cool draft of air. She opened her eyes to find ash all over her lap and Vixie standing above her with a blood-drenched sword, panting.

"Perhaps……you'll…..trust me….now."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	10. Chapter 9 In Reflection

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Chapter 9 - In Reflection

Clary stared at Vixie, completely stunned into silence.

She knew it'd been a close call and if someone hadn't come to her aide soon, she wouldn't have lasted very much longer. She was just surprised it was Vixie, of all people.

She looked into Vixie's face, which was utterly expressionless. As she stared, Vixie rose one perfect eyebrow, questioningly.

"Y-y-yes…" Clary stammered, her jaw in so much pain that it was hard for her to speak. "Thank you. I'm sorry. I'm just --"

"Surprised?" Vixie cut her off. Clary nodded.

"Clary?" It was Jace, running toward the pair of them with a face of extreme panic that melted into gratification once he saw her sitting up and breathing. Clary attempted to smile at him, but the pain in her head and jaw made it excruciating.

Instead, she surveyed his body for injury. He was covered in a thick layer of blood and sweat. He looked unharmed; the blood must have belonged to those enemies he cut down with his blade.

"What the hell happened?" Jace yelled, directing his anger in Vixie's direction. His fists were clenched at his side and his face became more furious as he appraised Clary's injuries. He pulled out his steele and handed it to Clary, knowing that her _irataze_ would be more efficient then if he drew it himself. Clary felt the familiar sting and slight stench of burning flesh as she drew on her left forearm. She could feel warmth on her back, head and face as her injuries healed.

"What do you mean?" Vixie asked without expression. She lazily gazed into Jace's face, as if she hadn't a care in the world.

"She is broken and bleeding. What they hell happened? I knew I couldn't trust you!"

"Jace --" Clary began, but was cut off quickly. She looked at Vixie, who was turning a peculiar shade of rose and her face turned from expressionless, to furious.

"I just saved her from being slaughtered, not to mention the fact that I saved the werewolf from two Eidolon AND saved your pathetic ass from the Ravenor you didn't see sneaking up on you earlier. What a talented bunch of idiots you have here. What a hunting party! You all managed to get yourselves cornered," Vixie proclaimed as the rest of the team approached. Magnus was helping a still weak Alec, Simon had Isabelle clutched in his arms, while Maia stood off to the side.

"What did we do?" Maia replied, incredulous.

"Nothing. There was a misunderstanding." Clary stood up and reached for Jace's arm. He started to calm under her touch. Vixie had turned away from the group and was heading to a nearby mourners bench to sit, muttering under her breath the whole way.

"Isabelle! Are you alright?" Clary had looked at her for the first time. Simon held her tightly, but her reddened arms and tear-streaked face was evident. Clary was stunned and a sense of panic enveloped her.

Isabelle hardly ever cried or showed emotion. Only once had it happened that Clary knew of, and that was when her and Alec's little brother Max was killed. She never really showed pain….not ever.

Isabelle didn't speak, she just nodded and kept her eyes on the ground. Clary's gaze turned to Simon, questioningly.

"She's fine Clary. Only minor injuries." He held up one of Isabelle's bleeding arms. As Simon held her by the elbow, Isabelle's hand fell limp. She seemed distant, broken and borderline catatonic; not her usual self by any means. She was always so vibrant and full of life, especially after a good fight.

Clary knew something had happened, but instead of questioning them further, she rushed to Isabelle's side, her steele steady in her hand. She grabbed her by the shoulder and gently drew the healing ruin. The familiar scent hung in the air and Clary bent to Isabelle's ear.

"When your ready…" she trailed off and Isabelle nodded, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Alec hobbled over to Isabelle. Magnus was able to heal all his injuries, but the effects of the poisonous barb lingered in his body, making him weak. It would take several days for him to heal fully. Clary knew from experience.

When he reached Isabelle, he gently cupped her face and leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead. They had always been so close. There was an awkward silence for a brief moment as the group watched the exchange. Simon kept his arm around her waist as her brother comforted her.

"So, what the hell happened? How did they know we were here? That couldn't have been coincidence," Maia questioned, as Vixie rejoined the group.

"The only one who knew we were coming was the Seelie Queen," Vixie answered. "I know you all feel she is devious, but I assure you, she would not have led us to slaughter. And she would not betray me…or you," she finished, with her eyes staring sharply at Jace. He raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

"Despite our history, Jace, the Queen has a particular interest in you and Clary. Additionally, she wants the Alliance with the Clave too much to jeopardize it."

"Sure", Jace muttered.

"If it wasn't the Seelie Queen, who set us up? How did they know?" Alec asked to no one in particular. The idea of having a spy sharp in everyone's minds.

"All I know, is that these things are getting harder and harder to fight," Simon muttered. "They catch us off guard like that again and I am not sure we will survive. It was too close for my comfort." He turned his head to place a kiss on Isabelle's temple. Maia didn't miss it and her face fell instantly.

"_They were after her,"_ a familiar voice echoed in their heads. The group turned to see a tall, cloaked figure behind them.

"Brother Hezekiah?" Clary exclaimed. "I thought you were dead. What happened?"

"What do you mean they were after her?" Jace questioned.

"_I am sorry, my child," _Brother Hezekiah answered Clary's concern. "_I was unable to break their mind barriers. I only saw their strict instructions: to capture you at all cost. Someone extremely strong and highly trained is behind this. Their powers were magnified by the same force that braced their minds from my attack." _

"I am sorry, Brother. They were too fast for me. And I --", Clary explained.

"_Do not apologize, my dear. If it were not for you, all of you, I fear that their mission would have succeeded." _

"Do you know why they want her?" Simon asked, his face a mixture of concern and a caged rage.

"_I am not sure. But it has something to do with mixing blood. The Seether demons I invaded did not know much about his plan, but there is definitely one who is plotting against the Clave, and plans on using Clary for his advances." _

Jace tensed next to Clary. The warning from the Angel fresh in his mind. In light of this new information, it made sense that the warning was not about Simon, but about this unknown threat. He glanced at Simon, who was still holding Isabelle, and saw all the concern and terror he felt mirrored in Simon's blue eyes. No matter what had happened between the two of them or how they felt about each other, they had one commonality: Clary. He knew how much Clary meant to Simon and that he'd do anything to protect her. They were brothers in their shared love for Clary. Simon met his gaze and at that moment, they knew that it would take the both of them to protect her from this unknown villain.

Jace grabbed Clary's hand and pulled her into his chest. He didn't know what he would do if someone took her, harmed her in any way. She returned the pressure with her hands on his back, knowing that Jace would be ultra-protective of her until they were able to figure out how to disarm the threat.

"_I am going to contact the Clave. They need to know about this plot. You are far too valuable, Clary Fairchild. And I fear that there is more to this then has been revealed."_

"I can call my parents when we return to the Institute," Alec breathed. He was so winded from the fight and his injuries. "I feel responsible for our failure here today. We have not been trained enough to fight this new threat. I fear we have failed in our attempt to mix Shadowhunters and Downworlders in a team to fight," he confessed, looking defeated.

"_On the contrary, the foes you faced here today were spawned from a deep evil. Something we have not faced before. Your bravery and teamwork was the only thing that saved you. I am deeply impressed by how you fared today. I am going to recommend to the Clave that these combined hunting teams start in full force. Your parents will be honored to have children as they do. And to you, Children of Night, Fey, Lilith and Moon, you are truly pioneers and soldiers. You represent your clans with bravery and resilience. We, Shadowhunters, are honored to fight by your sides in our united cause to rid the world of evil." _

Brother Hezekiah placed one scarred fist over his heart and bowed slightly: as a sign of respect for Maia, Simon, Magnus and Vixie. They returned the gesture as a reverence filled the cemetery like a warm blanket, calming the anxiety if only for a minute.

The silence was broken by Brother Hezekiah once more.

"_Although, I am highly impressed, there is a deep jeopardy here. I believe that we need the adults to return to the city. Clary, I believe it is imperative that you return to your training in full force. Your tutor should be arriving shortly. Listen, learn, be patient, and trust your instincts. They will guide you." _

With that, the Silent Brother made one final bow, and retreated into the City of Bones.

*********************************************************************

The group made their way to the entrance of a mausoleum, where several benches provided rest and recuperation. They each shared their recollection of the battle and details of the foes they faced. When Maia reached the part where she heard Isabelle screaming, she broke off.

All eyes were on Isabelle, but her gaze remained on the ground. Simon picked up the story, but did not reveal what he interrupted. But the obvious circumstance hung in the air, like a big black storm cloud that no one was willing to acknowledge.

After the accounts were revealed, each member broke off into small discussions and debates on the events of the night. Simon stood to stretch, leaving Isabelle's side for the first time. He pulled off his black T-shirt and handed it to Clary. She looked at him questioningly, but he motioned with his eyes to Isabelle.

Clary noticed for the first time that the front of her friend's shirt was ripped open, along with her bra. Her bare chest lay slightly covered by the remains of her shirt, and Isabelle made no attempt to cover herself. She just sat, staring into the ground. Clary eased over to Isabelle and everyone gave them distance to talk.

Simon walked over to a nearby tree and leaned against the trunk. Alec approached him.

"Simon --" he broke off, attempting to control his emotion that welded in his throat like a hot cast-iron ball. " I -- don't know what I -- would have -- thank you."

Simon looked into Alec's eyes; he saw gratitude reflected back and nodded solemnly. Jace was quick to join them, mock-punching Simon's shoulder in his own form of thanks for saving his sister. Magnus walked to Alec's side, placing one hand on his cheek. The boys left the girls near Isabelle, giving them space to comfort each other and care for their friend.

"Jace," Simon said. "What's the plan?"

"Not sure. I can watch her at the Institute. But I know its going to take more then me to keep her safe if they go after her again. I know she wont stay put in the Institute. She's too damn stubborn for that." Simon snorted.

"You know her well," Jace smiled in reply.

"Then, you also know that she is stronger then we both give her credit for," Simon said softly. Jace nodded.

"No matter how strong she is, I am not going to allow her to be harmed in anyway," he replied.

"I'm there with you. You need to understand, if we are going to do this together, that I would never do anything to come between the two of you. I love Clary and I have loved her for a long time. But I am learning that the love I feel for her is more like a sister and a best, truest friend. I respect you and what you have with Clary. The other night at the party, when I danced with her, that was only for your benefit. You needed to see how she feels, especially with Vixie around." Simon clamped his hand on Jace's shoulder while he spoke. Jace nodded and smiled.

"Who ever thought we would be friends, huh?" Simon laughed as Vixie and Maia approached the boys.

"So, fearless leaders. What do we do now?" Maia addressed Jace and Alec questioningly.

"We regroup, try to dissect what's happened," Alec replied with a heavy sigh.

"I think it is obvious what has happened" Vixie bluntly stated. "Someone is after your 'angel girl' and we are stuck in the middle."

"Stuck in the middle?" Jace angrily replied.

"You do not have to fight with us if you so choose. You can leave at any time," Alec addressed Vixie.

"My Queen is counting on me to see this through."

"See this through?" Jace said, incredulous.

"There is no need for you to 'see' anything through. We fought without you before, and we will do it again," Simon stated calmly.

"Yes, you fought without me before, if you could call it that. But if I wasn't here, you would have died without me. I saved half of you from the clutches of doom."

"Is that what you want? A pat on your shoulder? An atta-girl? You did your job…period. Don't expect us to crawl to your feet for doing your job. You are not a goddess to be worshiped so don't act like it," Jace replied, all patience gone at this point, approaching Vixie like he wanted to tear her heart out. Apparently, he still had deep-rooted animosity towards her.

"Okay, just relax. Calm down," Maia warned, stepping in front of Vixie, putting both hands on Jace's chest to stop his advances. "Let's just take a step back." Jace stopped, but still eyed Vixie with malice.

"Vixie, you were totally awesome today. I thank you for your excellent kick-ass skills and all. But, honestly. Do you intend to be 'all-holier-then-thou' every time we fight? Cause, girlfriend, its going to get quite annoying fast. And, its not winning you any brownie points from us." Vixie took a step back and became resolutely reserved, gracefully crossing her long slender arms in front of her well-endowed chest.

"Jace," Maia turned her lecture to him, as he raised his eyes brows in a _what did I do_ look. "I know you are all hella-pissed at Vixie, and rightfully so with the whole 'sex-slave' thing. But, you need to let it go. Past is the past, right? I mean, I know you probably have old scares for feeling so vulnerable at her hands, her trapping you down in her underground layer, wanting to do all kinds of naughty things to your body. She probably tied you up; I know I would have. You were probably all sweaty…"

"Maia" Alec warned

"…and hot…"

"Maia!" Simon joined Alec's warning.

"…and naked…."

"Maia!!" Jace joined in, while Magnus 'Mmmhmmm'ed under his breath.

"What's going on?" Clary questioned, looking at each of their faces like the cat in the canary cage.

"Oh nothing! How are you? Where's Isabelle? Is she okay? Oh good, okay, now, I am going to go over here and sit for a minute. Yeah…" Maia mumbled breathlessly, completely thrown off by the sexy scenes she played in her head about a hot, tied-up, sweaty Jace.

"Huh --" Clary simply stated and looked questioningly at Jace. He just shrugged his shoulders like he didn't know what Maia's problem was. Clary looked at Vixie who was elegantly smiling, like she was enjoying her own practical joke.

"Yeah, well. Isabelle is ready to go home. I think it's a good idea that we call it a night." There was a mumbled agreement as they all turned to go home. Simon walked to Isabelle and helped her off the bench. She looked into his eyes and smiled slightly. He smiled back and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. She was wearing his shirt that was lightly stained with blood from the fight. Her physical injuries were healed, but she was still fragile from emotional scars.

Alec decided that he would stay at the Institute tonight, instead of going home with Magnus. He wanted to be there for Isabelle incase she wanted to talk or if she had nightmares.

Simon wanted to stay with her, but since the Institute stood on hallowed ground, he was forbidden to enter. He leaned over to kiss her forehead once again and whispered goodnight in her ear. She smiled and surprised him with a gentle kiss on his mouth.

They all exchanged farewells, mumbled thanks and props for a fight well-done. Magnus left with Maia, while Simon offered to walk Vixie back to the park. None of them felt comfortable being alone anytime soon.

Clary left with Isabelle, Alec and Jace and walked towards the street to hail a cab. Her arms were around Jace's waste and her head lay on his chest. She was tired and emotionally drained. But she couldn't help but feel content in his arms, despite the lingering threat towards her. She replayed what Brother Hezekiah revealed to decipher the meaning. However frightened or angry she was that someone was after her, she felt safe in Jace's arms. There, she would find nothing but love and comfort. From him, she would never feel afraid or terrified. She knew he would move heaven and earth to keep her safe.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**AN: I want to thank all of you who have been reading this story and especially all of those who've been reviewing. Your comments keep me focused on the story. It's nice to know that your hard work is being appreciated out in the fandom. Thanks again. **

**I have a beta now! *Claps hands and bounces up and down***

**Evil Black Poppies has agreed to beta this story from this point forward. She rocks! Check out her stuff!**

**I love the comments I get about Vixie. Some of you are asking if she will be good or bad. I don't even know at this point. She keeps me guessing too.**


	11. Chapter 10 Complete Bliss

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

***Lemon Warning: If you're not old enough to read, then peace out now!***

Chapter 10 - Complete Bliss

The cab ride home was uneventful, thankfully.

Clary, Jace, Isabelle, and Alec all sat in comfortable silence, evaluating their own opinions of the events of the day. Clary held Isabelle's hand, in sisterly-affection, trying to reassure her that she was safe and could talk to her once she felt ready to.

Isabelle continued to stare at the ground, but she didn't seem as distant as she did before. She was playing with the hem of Simon's shirt that was draped over her, muttering incoherently under her breath.

Alec and Clary exchanged looks of concern, but no words were said. It was quiet obvious that something serious and potentially traumatic happened to Isabelle and Clary's heart hurt at what she thought that might have been. Until now, Isabelle had always been like an older sister to Clary: giving her advice about Jace, shopping with her, doing constant makeovers and giving her the confidence she needed. It seems like the roles were reversed today. Isabelle needed Clary. She had her two brothers, Jace and Alec; but what she needed right now was a sister, someone who could empathize with her situation and console her in her time of need_. _

When the group arrived back at the Institute, Clary helped Isabelle inside, up the elevator to the residence wing and down the hall to Isabelle's room. She opened the door and found it was its usual mess, as if a cyclone of clothes had attacked. It was dark and cold so Clary immediately started a fire in the fireplace, while Isabelle stood silently in the entryway. Once the fire was built, Clary took Isabelle by the arm and gently led her to sit on the bed.

"I am going to start a shower for you, alright?" Clary asked; Isabelle was still covered in dried blood and her hair and clothes were filthy. Isabelle continued to stare at the ground, but at least the constant muttering had halted.

Clary turned toward the bathroom, but was stopped by a cold hand on her arm, gripping it hard and fast. Clary paused and looked back. Isabelle had broke her stare with the ground and was looking at Clary with tear-filled eyes; Clary's heart fell. She turned and sat next to Isabelle on the bed.

"Izzy, what happened?"

"I…was…attacked…by an Eidolon. He…" she trailed off, her hand reaching up to her chest feeling the ripped blouse and bra underneath Simon's black T-shirt.

_Maybe….I should taint your innocence, while I have you so helpless in my grasp… _That is what the Eidolon demon had told Clary as she lay, bleeding and broken, on the ground.

Clary recognized what had happened to her friend and her suspicions were confirmed. She wrapped her arms around Isabelle, comforting her while Isabelle sobbed, muttering "He saved me…he saved me" between heaving gasps.

After a long while, Clary broke their embrace and Isabelle let out a big sigh.

"He didn't do anything more then taunt me, but I was terrified. I know that if….if Simon hadn't…if he hadn't come when he did…"

"I understand, Iz. You don't have to say anymore. I am so glad that you are okay, physically I mean; and that he didn't hurt you…more," Clary responded, tucking some hair behind Isabelle's ear.

"I just…I am so grateful and so thankful. Simon was…_has been_ amazing. I didn't think he felt anything for me anymore." Isabelle looked into Clary's eyes, beseechingly.

Clary let out a small chuckle, "He's totally crazy about you. He still feels the same way he did in Idris. I just think that he wants more…for you. He can't get around the fact that he won't age, or that he can't give you children. And, I think he feels that if you two were to pick up where you left off, then it could quickly turn into something serious." Isabelle placed her head in her hands and started to cry once more.

"That doesn't mean he lost feelings for you. It's just …complicated," Clary explained as she rubbed Isabelle's back.

"I know, its just… I see you and Jace, how happy you two are, how in love. Alec and Magnus too. I want that, I do. But, the only person I've ever felt that way for, is Simon. He was there for me when Max died. He was the only person who could break through my self-imposed wall. He held me and loved me when I needed it the most. I can't see myself living without him," she explained through her tears. Clary knew that what Isabelle said was true. She hardly ever showed emotion, so what she was feeling must have been strong and raw for her to breakdown.

"Maybe, you should talk to him. Let him know how you feel."

"I can't. If he's made his decision, I can't change his mind."

Clary moved her hand from Isabelle's back and wrapped it around her shoulders, leaned in, and placed a soft, sisterly kiss on Isabelle's temple. Isabelle leaned into Clary and placed her head on her shoulder. They sat like that for several minutes, both deep in their own thoughts.

"I better get cleaned up," Isabelle said as she stood and walked toward that bathroom. She stopped and turned once she reached the door.

"Clary?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." Isabelle broke into a smile, one that melted Clary's heart. She figured Isabelle was feeling better and returned the smile.

"No problem. That's what sisters and friends are for."

Isabelle walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Clary walked over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas for Isabelle. She laid them out on the bed, turned down the lights so only the bedside lamp was lit, and walked out of the room.

Alec was standing in the hallway, waiting for Clary.

"Is she alright?"

"She's fine. She's in the shower now. We talked." Alec put his head down, clearly concerned about what had happened to his sister.

"Don't worry Alec." Clary placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up. "It sounds like Simon got there in time." She smiled to reassure him and the corners of his mouth went up.

"Thanks Clary. I am going to stay with her if anyone needs me." As Alec walked into the room, Clary turned to head to her bedroom. She was exhausted, completely spent and emotionally drained from the nights events.

First, Maia and Isabelle seemed to be in a verbal lockdown, drag-out fight to the death. Second, the last member of their team had been appointed, who happened, once upon a time, to be crazily obsessed with Jace, having trapped and tortured him into being her sex slave, (She still needed to get the details about that one clear). Third, Jace passed out in front of the Seelie Queen, only to awaken and accuse Simon of feeling her up. Fourth, after confirming Vixie's appointment with Brother Hezekiah outside the City of Bones, the whole team was brutally attacked, Clary being the main target.

What a night.

Clary entered her bedroom and started stripping immediately. She was still covered in a thin layer of blood, ichor and sweat, and needed cleanliness pronto. She stepped into the steaming shower and felt her entire body start to relax. She thought of the events of the night and started to contemplate exactly what had been revealed.

She was starting to get the feeling that Jace was hiding something from her. He seemed to know a little more then what he was saying. And, what happened when he blacked out down in the Seelie Court? She decided it was time to have a talk with him; get his take on what is going on.

She turned off the water, toweled quickly, and wrapped a towel around her before she stepped out of the bathroom.

She walked in her room and noticed the lights were turned down; only the light from the fireplace gently cast a faint glow about the room. Jace was sitting on her bed in his pajamas, his head down, playing with something between his fingers.

"Jace?" she asked as she tried to keep herself covered with the towel.

He looked up, clenching his fist around the thing he was playing with and shoved it into his back pocket. He slolwy appraised her towel-clad body and a crooked smile came across his face. Clary could feel her body heating at his consideration.

"You're amazing," he said softly.

"What? Never seen a half-naked woman before?" she asked mockingly, winking at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't….here." He turned his back to her, suddenly embarrassed and pointed to a white nightgown he got ready for her while she was in the bathroom, laying on the bed. She scoffed, walked over and grabbed it from the bed. Clearly, that was _not_ the reaction she was hoping for.

She was heading back into the bathroom, muttering under her breath, when an idea hit her. A very seductive, very Isabellish-type idea. She raised one eyebrow and smiled to herself.

"Jace?"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning to face her. Clary looked over her shoulder to make sure he was watching and dropped the towel.

Jace's eyes went wide. Clary smiled.

"I have to ask you something."

"S-s-sure," he stammered as he desperately tried to keep his eyes locked on hers.

"Why haven't you made love to me?" She slowly turned, standing completely naked in front of him, presenting her body as an offering. The soft glow of the firelight danced off every curve, sparkling against the few small beads of water left on her body.

Jace stood from the bed and walked slowly toward her. His eyes never left hers. He didn't look over her naked body, but just stared into her eyes.

"I have something to give you first," he replied softly. "And I would prefer you to be clothed to receive it."

He reached for her nightgown, and gently pulled it over her head. But has he slid it down, he was careful to touch her skin, grazing the side of her breasts and along her abdomen and hips. Clary shuttered at his touch and began to ache from her desperate need for him. She never thought she would be so turned-on by someone _dressing _her.

Jace grabbed her hand, linking his fingers with hers, and pulled her over to the bed. He sat and pulled her between his legs, his hands resting on her lower back.

Clary reached up and brushed bronze curls out of his face, tucking one behind his left ear. They looked into each others eyes, both trying to read each other, asking silent questions with their eyes and trying to decipher the answers. Finally, Jace spoke.

"Clary, I can never picture my life without you. Tonight, I had to relive something that happened a while ago and it made me think deeply about our future together." Clary just stood, quietly listening as she continued to play with his hair, tracing his jaw, looking from his eyes, to the curve of his lips hungrily.

"Clary, I love you. I will always love you. I have waited to be with you because I care for you so much. I know that it has confused you, but you need to know that everything I do, I do for you. You are what is most important to me. No one else, myself included, comes first." Clary smiled and bent to gently kiss his lips. He reached up and placed one hand behind her head, holding her there.

They didn't deepen the kiss, but both enjoyed the moment; feeling each other close, melting into the love they had.

Jace pulled away, holding Clary in his stare. He pulled something from his back pocket and hid it in his fist. She didn't miss it.

"Clary, I know that this might be too soon. But after tonight, I can't stand not knowing that you are mine. I don't want anything to happen to you, but I can find some comfort it the knowledge that you chose me, that you love me, that you want me as much as I want you." Her eyes had not left his fist and her heart rate increased, her mouth slightly open in shock. Jace took her left hand.

"I need you, not just now, but for the rest of my life. I want you by my side in everything we do. I want to be partners with you, to share my life with you, for you to bare our children and for you to carry my name." Tears were forming at the edges of Clary's eyes and her free-hand flew to her mouth. She met his eyes and saw all the love and devotion that was in his words.

"Clary, will you marry me?" He opened his fist and presented a perfect gold ring on his palm, like an alter. It had a trim of white gold through the middle with three exquisite diamonds around it. It seemed to softly glow, like the metal on the seraph blades.

Clary's heart was in her throat. She was utterly speechless. She just stared at the amazing ring he offered, her heart slamming against her chest.

"Jace--" she whispered. Her right hand reached for his palm and lightly traced the outline of the ring. She looked back to his eyes and in that moment, she was completely and utterly in love with him. She felt strong and beautiful, loved and admired, vulnerable but strong, and she knew that she was his.

"Of course I will marry you!" She jumped into his arms, both falling backwards onto her bed. She peppered his face with soft kisses: his cheeks, his eyes, his chin, his lips.

Jace laughed softly and pulled them back upright. He grabbed her left hand and slid the ring into place. They both smiled brightly at each other, both eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Oh god, my mom's gunna kill me," Clary exclaimed through the tears of joy that were now fully cascading down her cheeks. Jace laughed with her and pulled her in for a hug.

They broke apart and stared at each other, enjoying the moment. Clary's left hand rested in Jace's right. He was rubbing her hand, grazing over _his _ring on her finger.

Slowly, he raised his right hand to her lower back, grazing circles with his thumb. Clary reached both arms around his neck, playing with the hair in the back. With his left hand, reached the back of her neck and gently he pulled her down to his lips.

The kiss started off gentle, loving; it quickly started gaining speed as their mouths parted. Clary's hands began to dig into Jace's hair, while he traced his fingers up and down her back, crinkling her nightgown on his way revealing her bare bottom. His hands traveled down her back, landing on the back of her upper thighs. He paused there, briefly, letting his hands travel underneath her nightgown as he ran his fingers along her soft skin, getting very close to the warm heat between her legs. Clary groaned as the tips of his fingers brushed the soft lips of her wet sex.

She released his hair, only to move to the collar of his shirt. Her fingers played about his neck, inching towards the buttons. She gingerly picked at the first one, opening it and exposing more of his bronze chest.

Jace groaned in her mouth and Clary took that as a sign that she could continue. With incredible speed and hunger, she made quick work with the rest of the buttons, exposing his glorious physique. Her touch was soft, loving; her small fingers grazing the soft ruin-scars along his pecks and washboard abs. She traced his body, up to his shoulders and pushed the rest of his shirt off his body so that it lay on the bed beneath him.

In one quick motion, Jace lifted Clary's nightgown over her head. He took one moment to praise her body: her every curve perfect, slim and toned body, and her skin the feel of satin.

She smiled as he watched her. The way he looked at her made her feel beautiful, worshiped like a goddess.

The passion ignited and his mouth was ravenous on hers, tongues and lips fighting for control. Without breaking the kiss, Clary reached down to Jace's pants and started to pull them down his hips; she could feel his excitement under the thin cotton.

Jace moved his lips to the softness of her neck, licking and kissing her. He whispered in her ear, "Clary, you don't know how long I have waited for this."

She chuckled softly, "Not as long as I have."

His pants were quickly off and both of them stood naked before the firelight, exploring each other with hands and eyes. Jace picked her up and carried her to the top of the bed, laid her down gently and placed himself between her legs.

With one hand behind Clary's head, Jace gently lowered her down onto the soft pillows that adorned Clary's bed. They both gazed into each others eyes, completely wrapped up in the moment. Jace placed his hand gently on Clary's face, lightly tracing the outline of her bottom lip.

"I love you," he whispered huskily.

"I love you too, Jace. More than anything," Clary replied; her voice broke at the end from the overwhelming emotion she was feeling.

She looked into his eyes and devotion, strength and love in his deep golden irises. She saw lust and passion in his face and became even more wanton for him.

Jace was always physically attracted to Clary; her small figure and proportionate curves fit his desires perfectly. But over the last year, as her body changed into that of a Shadowhunter warrior, he became even more attracted to her. Her arms were delicate, but strong and fierce. Her abdomen was flat, slightly mounded by the strong muscles beneath. And her legs were slim, but toned to perfection.

Tonight, when she stood completely nude in front of him, begging him to take her, he thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. Even the Angel Ithuriel, standing before him in all his glory at Lake Loryin could not compare.

But Clary beneath him, completely naked and basked in nothing but firelight, highlighting her supple curves and satin skin, was angelic.

Her beauty was perfection and he felt himself in need of her desperately.

He wanted to worship her like the goddess she was, bringing her pleasure time and time again. He wanted to watch her eyes as she exploded by his ministrations and he wanted to memorize her every valley and peak.

He crashed his lips to hers, increasing the molten fire burning in the lower half of his body. Their tongues lashed out between their lips, dancing in an ardent tango; answering lust with passion, vulnerability with trust, and devotion with commitment.

Jace trapped Clary's bottom lip as she panted, trying to catch her breath from their heated kissing. He ran his tongue along the soft plump skin of her lip; she tasted like heaven.

He released her mouth only to devour her neck, alternating between soft kisses and tantalizing licks. When he reached the juncture between her neck and shoulder, Clary let go a sultry moan. The sound alone almost undid Jace. He had never heard a single noise that could completely ignited his lust before, and his hips involuntarily ground into her heated core, producing a stronger, deeper groan from the writhing creature below him.

Clary felt unhinged, wanting him deep within her, wanting him exploring every cavern of her body. She was about to take control of the situation real fast if he didn't quench her craving soon.

She reached around his strong back, feeling the corded muscles bathed in a light sheen of sweat. She could feel the thin infinitesimal scars that adorned his skin from the ruins once etched upon his flesh. Those small imperfections were battle scars, but to her, they represented Jace's bravery, that he was a warrior; her passion for him doubled and she deepened their closeness.

Jace moved his hand down her shoulders and then to her chest, stopping to pay homage to her supple breasts. He palmed her right, amazed at how the satin-smooth mound fit perfectly in his rough hand. Her pink tip peaked and Jace thumbed it gently, earning a throaty moan from Clary.

"Oh god…Jace."

He took her hardened point between his lips and kissed it, then licked it in its fullest while massaging the other just as hungrily.

Clary's hands weaved themselves into Jace's golden curls and her back arched of its own volition, pushing her chest out as an offering for consummation.

"You…are absolutely…glorious," Jace whispered between kisses and licks onto Clary's heated flesh, creating a current of passion through her blood stream as his breath grazed upon the wetness from his mouth.

She trailed her hand down his back and grabbed his hips forcefully; her fingers surrounding the raised arches of his bottom. With slight force fueled by her desire, she pushed his erect member onto her dripping sex, causing a dull ache low in her abdomen. It increased in intensity as Jace growled; one hand left the alter of her chest and reached down to her heated core. He found her bulging bundle of nerves and pressed lightly, immediately coating the pad of his finger in her arousal. He made slow, undulating circles on that spot, making Clary writhe and squirm with torturous pleasure.

"God… your so wet for me Clary," Jace whispered against her breast.

"Please…Jace. I need you…now," Clary stammered under her intense excitement.

Jace parted her slick folds and thrust one finger deep inside her. Clary arched off the bed; the sudden intrusion too much to maintain control. His every touch, every kiss felt like the breaking dawn, revealing the undiscovered, uncharted treasures that was Jace's fingers, lips, tongue, body…

He plunged two fingers inside her, expanding her pink, velveteen-like wet sex for him and she felt the burning in her core increase.

Three fingers now, as he increased the slow steady rhythm plunging into her, his mouth still in due reverence upon her chest.

"Oh god!" Clary called out as her walls began to clamp down around his thick, firm fingers. Her body began to shutter as she experienced her first orgasm at Jace's hand, clamping, writhing and shuttering beneath him. There was a subtle burn in her chest, not unlike that she experienced when she created new ruins or like she felt when she was angry at Vixie. It was small and dim in comparison to her fiery eruption, but added to the intensity none the less.

Her eyes met Jace's and she smiled. He used both hands and placed them on her hips.

"Clary…I am going to go slow. If you need me to stop, tell me."

She responded by flinging her legs around his lower back and linking her ankles together, nodding furiously. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the onslaught of pain she was surely to feel from her first penetration.

"No, Clary. Look at me," Jace panted. "I want to see your eyes. I want to look at you as I enter." Her eyes flew open and locked onto his. Her mouth slightly parted and her breath hitched in anticipation.

Slowly and gently, she felt his tip approach her entrance and push through. Jace watched her eyes carefully for any sign of distress, but all he saw was curiosity and fascination.

There was a slight pain once he was completely sheathed inside her, but Clary's tolerance for pain had significantly increased since she started training, and the discomfort soon melted into desire and heated pleasure.

Jace could see the change in her eyes and he smiled.

"You ready?" he breathed.

Clary's grip on his hips strengthened, and she answered him by pulling herself up into his hips, slamming herself until he was deep within her.

Jace growled and his eyes rolled back into his head. He reached around her back and cupped her shoulders, using them as an anchor to drive himself steady and strong in her over and over. Their body slammed into one another, both panting and moaning as the blissful sensations increased. Clary could feel the burning pain in her chest beginning to appear once again and she pushed herself further into him. Her core clamped down once more, hotter and more forcefully then before.

"Jace…I can't…oh god…faster," she cried. His eyes met hers and they both increased the tempo. Pushing and plunging deep within each other, they moaned and growled as their excitement reached its peak. The burning in Clary's chest grew and her eyelids shut instinctively. She saw flashes before her eyes; pictures fast and steady, almost like visions. These were of shapes and lines that when visualized, brought intense satisfaction that amplified the euphoric shutters racking her body. The world could be ending around her and she would not care. All she could feel, think, speak or hear was Jace. What he was doing to her body sent her in to a ecstatic existential coma, where her senses dripped of rapture and all her dreams were a reality.

It was the single most life changing event in Clary's life, and she felt the pleasure roll over her time and time again. Once one orgasmic wave would settle, another would crash into her, overtaking her sensations with extreme ecstasy.

Jace's thrusts did not end. He continued to pound into her, watching her face as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into her, coating her in a majestic radiance of passion and bliss. His toes curled at the site and feel of her, and he felt his orgasm burst inside her. He collapsed on top of her, panting and gasping, choking out stuttered whispers of devotion and love between his breaths.

She kissed him, kissed every inch she could reach as he whispered his undying love.

"Clary, I am eternally yours," he whispered.

"Forever…" she breathed.

He rolled onto his side, bringing Clary with him. He pulled her onto his chest and started to run his fingers lazily along her bare back, thinking about the immediate future filled with endless nights with Clary.

**************

Clary woke early in the morning, the dawn shining dimly through the window in her room. She lay on Jace's bare chest, their naked body and legs tangled together under the sheets. She had never felt so safe, so loved as she did in that moment.

She heard Jace sigh and she knew he was awake as well, but neither one of them moved, neither wanting to disturb this moment.

After a while, Clary lifted her left hand, admiring her new ring. It glinted in the sunlight; she felt like it had been made just for her.

Her hand was soon met with a stronger, bigger pair. Jace grabbed her ringed-hand and pulled it to his chest.

"You're mine…" he mused.

"You bet your ass, I am," she giggled.

"Jace Lightwood! What the hell are you two doing?" Both Clary and Jace sat up straight in bed, only to find a very angry and disbelieving Maryse standing in their doorway.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**AN: My awesome Beta, Evil Black Poppies, informed me that this story has been nominated for some MI fanfic awards (Best Angst, Romance, Lemon, Post City of Glass, Author and Original Character - Vixie)! Kudos to all the noms! Check the Mortal Achieves out (link on my profile), great site for more of your MI fix. :D**


	12. Chapter 11 Parental Control

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Chapter 11 - Parental Control

Clary pulled the sheet up to cover her bare chest, completely embarrassed at being caught in bed with Jace…by his mother.

She sat there silent, starring at the scene unfolding in front of her in absolute mortification.

Maryse just stood there, fuming. She began muttering under her breath. Clary could only make out a couple words: 'naked', 'young', and 'untrustworthy' were some of the more tamed ones. Jace began to stutter-out half articulated explanations, motioning between himself and Clary.

"Jace, just shut it." Maryse put one well manicured hand up, palms forward in attempt to halt his meaningless drabbles.

"But…I…we," Jace tried again.

"I don't want to hear it," she groaned, both of her hands covering her face, as if she could pretend that her eighteen year old son was _not_ in bed with his sixteen year old girlfriend.

"Hey Mom! Glad your back. What's going ….wow, oh shit!" Alec's hand flew to his eyes at the site of Clary and Jace in bed. "What the hell, Jace?" He tried to sound outraged, but couldn't help his amusement at Jace's expense.

"Oh don't even try it, Alec Lightwood. I suppose you're going to play 'dumb' and tell me you didn't know what was going on," Maryse turned on Alec, who tried to stumble out his innocence between his snickers of amusement. After a minute, under his mother's stern glare, his humor died in his throat and he had enough sense to back away, retreating to his room. Maryse turned back to Jace and Clary.

"In my home? I trusted both of you!"

"What's going on, Maryse?" As if this day could get any worse, Clary heard an achingly familiar voice in the hall, fast approaching.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!" Clary jumbled under her breath. Her free-hand flew to her face, wishing that she hadn't heard it. But there was no mistaking it; she had heard _exactly _what she thought she heard and her fears were confirmed as she saw her _mother_ step around the corner.

Jocelyn froze in the doorway, her face full of fury and disappointment as she appraised the situation. Jace was the only one of the pair that was brave enough to meet her gaze.

Jocelyn was murderously angry, burning holes through the sheet covering Clary and Jace's naked forms.

"Kitchen. Five. Minutes," Jocelyn spat, enraged. With that, she swept from the room, Maryse hot on her tail.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After Clary left to join her mother in the kitchen, Jace sat at the edge of the bed, pondering all that had transpired in the last five minutes. How could this have gone so wrong?

He stood and reached for his pajama pants on the floor, thinking of Clary in the kitchen with her mother. He hoped that the scrutiny she would most defiantly endure at the hands of Jocelyn wasn't too bad. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty about her predicament. Its one thing to be caught in bed by Maryse; it's a whole other level to involve Jocelyn.

Jace knew that Maryse was somewhere in the Institute, fuming. He needed to get the chastisement over as soon as possible, so he mustered up enough courage to take the few first steps out of Clary's room.

As he reached the doorframe, he heard a familiar sound. Church, the Institute's resident feline, was waiting for him in the hallway. Jace thought that the cat seemed to have a quirky smile on his face and his meow seemed a little smug.

"Oh great, you're going to start in on me too?" Jace questioned, reaching down to scratch the cat behind its ears.

"Where's Maryse, Church?" The cat took off down the hallway in the direction of the library. _Of course_, he though riley.

As Jace followed, he couldn't help but feel like the 'Dead Man Walking', trudging down the long dark hallway towards his death sentence. He contemplated on whether or not he should just jump on his demon-powered motorcycle and head out of town for a few days. Although the idea of avoiding Maryse was tempting, he needed to face this so he could move on with Clary.

He arrived to the library door, but all he could do was stare at it, his fists clenched at his sides. He remembered the disappointment in Maryse's voice and cringed; he had never heard her so upset. He began to tremble slightly.

But, why was he so nervous? After all, he was eighteen, a legal adult. Sure, Clary was younger then him, but she was a Shadowhunter and they matured a lot faster then other kids.

And Clary was mature for her age. Besides, she was going to be seventeen in a couple of months, only a year from adulthood. Plus, its not like they weren't doing anything that EVERYONE ELSE in this house wasn't doing. The things that Alec and Magnus were up to alone would be enough to curl Maryse's perfectly straight hair. Not to mention Isabelle's sex life.

Why should he feel guilty? Sure, he swore to Maryse that while she was gone and Clary was staying there, he would behave himself and respect her wishes.

'_Remember Jace, I am trusting the both of you to be respectful. No sex in my house.' _Ha!…Oops.

He was Jace Lightwood, king of cool. He didn't get nervous. So what, Maryse found them post - doing 'the deed'. Its not like he was the first kid to get caught by his parents.

Jace stood there grinning as he thought. His internal argument quickly turned into a reminiscence of the events that took place in Clary's room. He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as he thought of one particular moment.

"Jace Lightwood, I can hear you in the hallway. Get your ass in here." Jace was snapped back into reality. He swung open the door to find an irate Maryse standing in front of the huge mahogany desk in the center of the room. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she tapped one foot impatiently.

"What the hell, Jace. Your laughing?" Maryse stormed, exasperated.

"No.." Jace chuckled.

"The hell your not! This situation is NOT funny. What were you thinking? Has this been going on the whole time we were in Idris? In my house?" Maryse questioned, flailing her arms and motioning between the several available rooms in the Institute. Jace smiled again, thinking about all the available rooms in the Institute that could provide privacy for a quick rendezvous with Clary.

_Slam_!

He was brought back to reality by an unbelievably pissed-off Maryse, throwing a book at him to get his attention. Luckily, it missed his head by an inch and crashed into the door behind him.

"What do you want me to say, Maryse?"

"First of all, I want you to change you tone of voice. You may be an adult now, but you will address me with respect. And I swear to you, if you do not remove that goofy grin from your face, I will remove it for you." Maryse looked threatening, her eyes gleaming in malice. Jace knew that she meant her threat too. It was rare that any of the Lightwood children crossed their mother. She was a force to be reckoned with. However, Jace learned a long time ago how to diffuse her temper; with humor and humiliation.

"Jeez, mom," Jace sneered. "Can I help the involuntary facial response to the euphoric bliss that is Clary? I didn't realize how limber she was…" he trailed off dreamily, just to piss Maryse off further.

"Oh by the Angel, Jace. Please. Spare me," she threw her hands up to cover her eyes, hoping to avoid the images popping into her head.

"Oh. Come. On. Like I am the first to defile these walls," Jace bluntly stated, pointing in the direction of Alec and Isabelle's rooms. "Do you honestly think that I am alone in the 'boinking' here?" Jace smiled.

"In the what? Oh god, if your father heard you right now…" Maryse pointed at him accusingly, shaking her head incredulously.

"Come on, Maryse. You know as well as I do that 'dear ol' daddy' appreciates some good lovin' like the rest of us. 'Member that time I caught you two in the kitchen…huh?" Jace wagged his eyebrows up and down, suggestively.

"Please, don't bring that up," Maryse's hands flew up to her face for the second time in this conversation in complete mortification. "Beside it being incredibly humiliating, your father and I are both consenting adults. She is sixteen Jace. Do you really think your father will approve of that?"

"He knows how it was to be our age, even if you've forgot. I am sure he will be lenient," Jace crossed his arms in front of his chest as a sign of nonchalance. Inside, he was cringing.

"Its not like he gets pissed about his sixteen year old daughter 'romping the roses' with half of New York," he added under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Maryse's hands flew to her hips.

"Nothing," he answered quickly. He didn't want to drag Isabelle into this. She had been through enough.

"Look, I will talk to Robert when he gets home. I am sorry that we didn't listen to you, but it just happened, okay?" Jace explained with insincerity.

"No Jace. It's not okay. And, if you're not afraid of your father's reaction, perhaps you should concentrate on how you are going to explain this to Luke. Believe me, he will not buy your lame excuse of, 'it just happened'," she sneered.

_Oh shit_. He hadn't thought of Luke.

Maryse's eyes glinted. She knew she had gotten to Jace by the change in his stance. Jace became rigid with nerves. How does one explain to a volatile werewolf, completely capable of ripping you limb from limb, that you sexed up his sixteen year old daughter?

"Ha!" Maryse exclaimed. "Not so sure of yourself now, are you boy?"

"Please," Jace shooed her comment away. "I can handle Luke. You forget, he's having sex for the first time in god knows how long. He's probably too busy lovin' up Jocelyn to even care about what Clary and I are doing. You know as well as I do that he is enjoying the euphoric haze of the freshly fuc…"

"JACE!" Maryse cut him off.

"What?" Jace chuckled.

"You need a good ass kicking, do you know that?" Maryse accused, breaking a small smile at the corners of her mouth.

"You know you love me!" he proclaimed, victorious.

"I think I would fare better with Jocelyn at my side. Your attitude won't sit with her. I would love to see you make comments about her sex life in effort to diffuse this situation."

Jace was silent.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clary sat in the kitchen and kneaded her fingers, legs bouncing up and down in nerves. She looked at the wall clock…again. It had been thirty minutes since her mother told her to be in the kitchen, but Jocelyn had yet to make an appearance.

She couldn't believe this was happening. She was nervously mortified at having been caught 'red-handed'. Clary thought back to her bedroom, where only moments ago her mother had seen her in bed with Jace.

After her mother and Maryse had left, Clary had leapt from the bed and dressed as quickly as she could, throwing on a simple summer dress and pulling her hair in a messy ponytail. It took less than a minute. She even had time to throw on some ballet flats, since the Institute's dank hallways were cold and startling to walk on barefoot. She gave Jace a quick kiss and murmured reassurance, then flew down the hallway.

She had made it to the kitchen with two minutes to spare, breathing heavily in her haste, but Jocelyn had not appeared.

As she sat, she pondered what cliché excuse she would offer her mother. What do teenage girls say to their parents when they caught them _in bed _with their boyfriends? _'Mom, you don't understand. Mom, I love him. Mom, it's my life...butt out!'_

Somehow, she had a feeling that those lame mundane excuses would not work on Jocelyn. Her mother was a full fledged Shadowhunter, whose temper matched her flaming hair. Clary would have to diffuse her mother more firmly. _'Mother, back away from Jace. Seriously, mother put the blade down! Mom, I mean it! Don't kill him!'_

She could almost visualize her mother full of rage going after a completely shocked and retreating Jace. With that thought, her breath caught. Where _was _her mother?

Sudden panic gripped her and she began to fear for Jace's safety. She stood up, all thoughts toward Jace's whereabouts when the kitchen door swung open.

"Sit," her mother simply commanded and Clary obeyed at once. She learned a long time ago not to cross her. She knew the best course of action was to remain calm, nod when appropriate and speak only when asked a direct question.

The tension was awfully think, making Clary more anxious then before. They both sat at the table, neither willing to break the unnerving silence, which was unlike her mother. Usually, she would go on a complete tirade, yelling and flailing her arms while Clary sat and listened diligently. Silence was not her norm.

Clary couldn't bring her self to look at her mother. She continued her dance of nerves: legs bouncing like she had to pee, eyes fixed to her knotted hands. After five minutes of uncomfortable silence, she'd had enough.

"Mom--"

"Clary--"

They both said in unison. For the first time, their eyes met and they both cracked a semi-smile at the awkwardness of it all.

"Clary," Jocelyn began again. "I realize that you are getting older and that you think you have strong feelings for Jace --"

"Think?" Clary questioned, stunned by her mother's blatant disregard.

"Yes Clary, _think_. Look, I know you both care for each other, but you need to be mature about this. The Lightwoods and I set strict rules for you to stay here. Obviously, that trust was misplaced."

"Mom, I'm almost an adult," Clary decided to begin with the typical rebellious teenage response. "I think I can make decisions for myself."

"You are sixteen," Jocelyn challenged.

"Yes, mother. I am sixteen. You know as well as I do that Shadowhunter kids are different then others. We mature faster and experience…_things _younger than mundane teenagers."

"Clary, don't play this off," her mother began.

"Play it off? Are you going to sit there and tell me that you didn't sleep with Valentine when you were my age?" she questioned with one eyebrow raised in disbelief and defiance.

Jocelyn opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed caught in her throat. Clary saw her mother's fists clench on the table and she knew that she'd better tone it down a notch or this pleasant discussion would result in a screaming match real quick.

"I'm sorry mom," Clary said, fixing her eyes on the kitchen table. She felt like a wounded animal. How was she going to communicate her love, her _need_ for Jace to her mother?

"Clary, I don't want to be hypocritical. Its just…your so young, to be so serious with someone and I'm just…" she broke off. Clary looked up to her mom's stunned face, her eyes fixed on Clary's left hand.

_Oh shit, the ring_

"Mom--"

"What the hell is that?!" Jocelyn shrieked, rising from the table and knocking her chair to the floor which sent a resounding crash throughout the room.

The kitchen door burst open and Jace flew in, followed by Maryse. He quickly reached Clary's side and pulled her hand into his, appropriately assessing the situation, realizing that Jocelyn had prematurely discovered their engagement. Maryse joined Jocelyn, the pair making a solid united front of parental scrutiny and authority. Jace stood his ground.

"I have asked Clary to marry me. She has agreed."

"You what?" Maryse cried to Jace.

"Are you crazy?" Jocelyn questioned Clary.

Both parents were livid, screaming and flailing about, shooting endless questions and statements of disapproval to the pair of them. Jace and Clary stood calm and motionless, something Clary never would have been able to do without Jace at her side. He made her feel strong, brave and resilient. She was quickly becoming dependant on his presence at her side and she tried to hide the small smile that was forming at the thought of their impromptu engagement and events that followed after.

"You think this is funny, young lady?" Jocelyn asked incredulously, standing stone still in front of them, both hands on her hips.

"No…" Clary stammered through the fit of giggles that was threatening to envelope her. She could feel Jace tremble at her side and chanced a small peek at him out of the corner of her eyes. He had both lips pursed and a look of concentration on his face. But his eyes couldn't hide his amusement. He was trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all too. That undid Clary. She began to laugh whole-heartedly, her belly aching by the force of her chuckles. Jace began to laugh too, each using each other and the kitchen table to brace themselves in attempt to not fall on the ground in their hysteria.

Maryse and Jocelyn just stood dumbfounded, staring at the pair of them in deep amusement and loss of control.

"This is not FUNNY!" Maryse shouted.

"Will you two be mature enough to address this, please?" Jocelyn interjected. After several minutes and a couple attempts at regaining control, Jace and Clary sat at the table with their parents to discuss this matter calmly and rationally. Maryse began first.

"I know that we may seem hypocritical to you, since both Jocelyn and I were married young. But you need to understand that we want what is best for the both of you." Jocelyn nodded her head in agreement and spoke hastily.

"It's just that, both of you began your relationship under turmoil and despair. You have both been through so much lately that it concerns me. Do you really think that it is best to jump ahead to marriage this soon?" Jocelyn asked, searching her daughters eyes and then Jace's. Clary shook her head in defiance.

"Mom, its not like Jace and I haven't been in love from the beginning. I fell in love with him from the first moment I saw him, and that was before any _turmoil_ happened." Jace grabbed Clary's hand and nodded in agreement.

"We're not going to get married right away, but with everything that's happening lately, it seems appropriate to make it official," Jace argued, turning to look deep into Clary's eyes. "I can't imagine my life without her. She means everything to me and I _know_ I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

Jocelyn was silent. She looked at her daughter staring lovingly into Jace's eyes. In that shared moment, she knew that there was no arguing against it; Clary had found her match.

It seemed that Maryse realized the same thing. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Then looked back at Jace and Clary who were still locked in their love-stare. Maryse chuckled under her breath.

"I remember feeling like that," she whispered to Jocelyn.

"It doesn't seem that long ago, does it," Jocelyn answered. Both of them smiled, reminiscing on what it was like to be sixteen and in love.

"Okay, here's the deal," Maryse declared, effectively ending the love-sick puppy gaze between Jace and Clary.

"We are still hesitant about this engagement," Maryse began, exchanging a glance with Jocelyn who nodded in agreement. "But we are willing to be open-minded." Clary and Jace visibly relaxed, each smiling in contentment.

"However…" Maryse put both hands up to stop their enjoyment at her concession. "There will be no nooky in this house. All you two need is a baby to add to the problems we've been facing lately. If I have to, I will take your doors off their hinges, do you understand me?"

Both Clary and Jace nodded, looking stern and resolute, but their eyes gleamed triumph. If Maryse thought her decelerated threat would stop the two of them, she had another thing coming.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**AN: There are scenes from this chapter and the last that I'd originally cut out and offered as bonus material (link on profile). I decided to go back and add them in, so if you're reading this story for the first time and things seem kinda jumpy, that's why. I hope I smoothed out all the edges when I added them into the story. If not, I apologize. **

**Once again, bonus stuff on profile as well as a link to the MI fanfic awards. Voting ends on Halloween, 2009.**


	13. Chapter 12 Refuge

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Chapter 12 - Refuge

The next two weeks passed uneventfully, which was both a good and bad thing. On the positive, Maryse and Jocelyn had, for the time being, been more receptive to the pending engagement under the agreement that the wedding not commence for at least a couple years. Both Jace and Clary had been copasetic about it, stating neither were ready for marriage. With both parents appeased, Jace and Clary focused on each other.

Although it was difficult, under the strict rule Jace dubbed as 'the nooky clause', both of them found several private moments alone. It happened only a few times, when they were in the middle of a heavy makeout session, one or both parents would come flying into the room in attempt to stop any fornication. Jace was beginning to call them the 'cock-block patrol', which sufficiently earned him less privacy when Maryse ceremoniously removed his bedroom door from its hinges. Despite that, the passion between Jace and Clary was undeniably strong. They wanted some much needed time alone, and had even played with the idea of finding a place of their own. Clary wanted to at least wait until she was seventeen and Jace was agreeable; it was only a couple months away.

Isabelle had been doing better as well. She had been able to talk about what had happened in the graveyard to Maryse and Clary, telling them the details behind the attack. They comforted her, gave her the encouragement she needed and told her that if she ever needed to vent, that they would be more then willing to be there for her. But no one had been more instrumental in Isabelle's recovery then Simon. He would often take her out to walk in the park, talking about anything and everything that was on her mind. When she returned from their outings, she was in higher spirits and more like her usual self. He was there for her in more ways then one, and Clary was happy that they both had each other.

Luke and Robert were finishing the investigation proceedings in Idris and were planning on returning to the City with the new tutor. Clary hadn't seen Luke in so long and she missed him a lot. She was excited for him to come home. She new out of both of her parents, Luke would be more accepting of her and Jace's engagement.

On the negative, the team had not been out hunting since Maryse and Jocelyn's return. Both of them swore their undying faith in the team, but thought it would be best to regroup, to try to figure out the reason behind the latest attacks.

In response to the lack of patrols, there had been more demon sightings reported. Maryse knew that they couldn't wait much longer, so her and Jocelyn decided to go to the Bone City and ask for guidance from the Silent Brothers. They left early in the morning, stating that they would be back as soon as they could, leaving Alec, Clary, Jace, and Isabelle to figure out a safe meeting place for the group to gather.

They had been sitting in the library, brainstorming possible locations. The rest of the group was to meet up and discuss strategies based on the Silent Brothers recommendations.

"What about Magnus' loft?" Isabelle asked.

"Not bloody likely," Alec stated. "Even _if_ Magnus would approve, there is _no way _mom is stepping one foot into that place. It's my refuge." Alec smiled, thinking of many happy nights spent there.

"Yeah, no need to inform the cock-block patrol of Alec's private haven," Jace chuckled.

"Ew, gross," Isabelle murmured while Clary giggled.

"It would be ideal to meet here," Alec continued, completely ignoring Jace's jest. "The Institute would protect us from any demon attack and would ensure privacy. They only problem is…"

"Simon," everyone mumbled in unison, frustrated. The Institute was in an old church, which sufficiently protected it from demons attacks. But since Simon was a vampire, he couldn't enter hallowed ground, rendering their only safety not an option.

"It reminds me of Quasimodo," Isabelle stated half heartedly.

"Oh come on, Iz. Although I do agree that Simon isn't the looker, I don't think I would go as far as to compare him to a hunched-backed, sexually repressed freak who lives in a cathedral tower and jacks-off to thoughts of some unattainable chick," Jace smirked, then amended quickly. "Well, maybe the sexually repressed and jacking-off part is accurate."

Clary smacked the back of his head with a resounding '_thwack' _as Isabelle retorted, "That's not what I meant, jack ass. I meant that part of the movie when he's trying to help the Gypsy girl."

All three pairs of eyes stared at her with confused expressions, not understanding the connection.

"You know," Isabelle began, gesturing her hands in the air. "The part where he picks up her limp body, runs into Notre Dame and cries 'Sanctuary!'"

At the moment she said 'sanctuary', Clary had a sudden burning in her chest and a distinct vision flash before her eyes. It was two adjoining lines, resembling part of an isosceles triangle, that was encircled by an oval. When it flashed in Clary's mind, for that brief moment, she felt safe and secure.

Inspired and hopeful, she crossed the room and grabbed a pad of paper and pin from the large mahogany desk. She quickly drew what she remembered: two adjoining lines, encircled by an oval. She held it up to the others, who were curiously studying her actions.

"Does this look familiar to any of you?" Alec crossed the room to join Clary at the desk.

"Not specifically. It vaguely resembles the ruin of Safety, but the circling is off as well as the line angle," Alec stated, examining the drawing carefully.

"What made you draw this?" Jace asked curiously, taking the pad from Alec for his own inspection of Clary's ruin.

"I was thinking of how to get Simon into the Institute, but nothing came into mind until Iz was talking about Quasimodo and sanctuary. This is what I saw in my mind," she explained, pointing to the pad of paper.

"Do you think this ruin could get Simon into the Institute safely?" Isabelle asked, rounding to Jace's back side to peer over his shoulder to investigate.

"I'm not sure," Clary thought, face scrunched in concentration. "It doesn't feel right. When I look at it, I feel safe, secure in a way. But, something is missing."

"Hmmmm," Alec pondered. "What feels off to you?"

"Well, I just feel like something is missing…something important, like it's not enough," Clary answered.

"Huh," Jace thought. He walked over to the fireplace, thinking about ideas for Simon's safe passage into the Institute, but coming up empty. Each of them taking several long minutes to ponder the problem, trying to find the missing element. After a while, Clary became frustrated.

"Argh!" she exclaimed. "I feel so close to an answer. I know we are on the right track". Alec sat in the chair behind the desk, placed his elbows on top and tented his index fingers in front of his face in deep thought. Moments later, he began to hypothesis.

"Why is it Simon cannot enter the Institute?" he questioned the small group.

" Cause it's hallowed ground, dip shit," Jace grunted, exasperated.

"That's the answer," Alec answered, a smile touching his lips.

"What's the answer?" Isabelle asked impatiently, hands circling in the air motioning for her brother to continue.

"It's hallowed ground and he cannot enter because he is infected with a demon disease that causes vampirism."

"Yes genius, we know this," Jace stated, frustrated. Clary stood silent, following Alec's train of thought, the deep burning sensation returning to her chest.

"The infection taints his human blood, makes him dirty…much like a sinner…" Alec trailed off, meeting Jace's eyes. Both on the same page now.

"Forgiveness…" Jace whispered.

"No, not forgiveness…repentance," Alec stated, causing another burning flash in Clary's mind. This one looked like a small vertical curved line with two points above the top. She quickly scribbled it down on paper and held it up for evaluation.

"I've never seen anything like that before," Isabelle stated, both Alec and Jace nodding in agreement.

"What do you feel when you look at it?" Alec asked, intrigued.

"I feel…remorse," she simply stated, causing Jace to clasp his hands in triumph.

"That has to be it," he exclaimed. "Put them together, babe. See if it feels different." Clary smiled, loving the fact he called her 'babe' and began to draw. She started with the first vision, the one that made her feel safe and secure: two straight lines, joining at the top with an oval around it.

"Sanctuary," Clary mused, finishing the ruin. She looked up and met Jace's eyes. He looked at her with admiration, nodding his encouragement for her to continue. Clary closed her eyes and concentrated on how she should put both pieces together: Sanctuary and Repentance. The burning sensation started creeping back into her chest, causing her pulse to quicken and her breath to catch.

The ruin came to her suddenly, a bright flash matching the intense burn deep within her. The wavy line trailed down the center of the two lines and both points stood outside it. She quickly drew it, feeling like she was on the right track. Looking down at her new ruin, she felt safe, secure, regretful but forgiven all at the same time.

"What does it mean?" Isabelle asked from Clary's side. She had been so transfixed on her creation, she didn't notice everyone joining her behind the large desk, or that Jace had his hand on her shoulder in support.

"It means…Absolution," Clary revealed, the burning sensation diminishing.

"That had to be it, right?" Jace asked, looking at Alec for confirmation.

"I don't know," Alec answered. "Absolution seems like it would be appropriate, but…" he trailed off with the expression of one deep in thought.

"It still feels like there needs to be more, but I _know _this ruin is complete," Clary stated, looking at the paper.

"It looks kinda like a mountain in the clouds," Isabelle mused. "You know, with the lines being a mountain

peak with a river running down it." She tracing the lines with her finger to illustrate her meaning.

"Mount Sinai," Alec murmured.

"Mount what?" Clary asked.

"Mount Sinai is in the Bible and was said to be where God lived. It's the place where Moses received the ten commandments from God," Alec answered. "The ground at the base of the mountain is said to be hallowed to this day".

"The same location was thought to be the home of Semitic deities prior to the Israelites arrival as well," Jace added.

"Huh," Clary retorted. "I don't know about all that. But I know it means Absolution."

"Well, the only way we could see if it works is to try it, right?" Jace stated.

"The Downworlders are going to be here in fifteen minutes," he continued, referring the Simon, Maia, Vixie and Magnus. "I say we try it out".

"What if it hurts him," Iz asked, concerned.

"It won't," Clary assured her. "It'll work like the Alliance ruin does, because it's not from the Grey Book." She turned to Jace, "Maybe if I see someone else placing the ruin on Simon, I can understand the last missing piece."

"I'll do it," Isabelle stated, pulling out her stele from her back pocket.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Clary," Alec said, looking between Clary and Isabelle with a concerned face. "We aren't sure it will work or what it does. It should probably be applied by you, because your ruin application is more powerful and accurate then ours," he explained.

"It shouldn't work like that," she retorted. "It's just like the Alliance ruin. Others can place it just like you all do with Alliance. Mine wasn't stronger then yours when I drew it on Simon at the graveyard."

"Let's just try it and see what happens," Jace said, clasping Alec on the shoulder. "If Clary is observing, then she can recognize a problem and act faster if something goes wrong." Alec hesitated for a moment, but reluctantly nodded his head in agreement.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They waited outside the Institute in anticipation. Clary and Alec seemed a little more hesitant than the other two, both deep in though about what they were overlooking. Isabelle bounced on her heels in excitement, looking up the street frequently to see if the Downworlders were approaching, while Jace stood cool as ever, playing with a piece of grass between his fingers.

"Iz, chillax," Jace grumbled. "You're giving me a headache".

"Shut it, lover boy," Isabelle quipped. "I have been waiting for this for a long time. It's something I can give to Simon for everything he's done for me." Her eyes met Clary's and they both smiled. Clary hoped that the Absolution ruin may start the beginning of Isabelle and Simon's relationship, that it would somehow solve one problem they faced. There seemed to be many obstacles between them and their happiness, and Clary had been at a loss to help them. The fact that the Mark of Cain was still on Simon and its appliance had not revealed any repercussions caused Clary to be in a constant state of worry.

Clary was brought out of her brooding by the familiar sound of clanking and screeching breaks. She looked up and saw Eric's minivan parked in front of the Institute. She watched Simon climb out of the driver's seat and she felt a wave of anxiety over come her. She hung back while the others greeted the new arrivals.

Magnus leapt from the van into Alec's waiting arms, mumbling something about cheap leather, smells of stale Cheetos and the subway being a safer form of travel. Alec just chuckled, trying to reassure his love.

Maia and Vixie climbed out of the van and joined the group, all exchanging greetings and pleasantries.

"What's up guys?" Maia asked, flashing a cheesy grin in Clary's direction. "Congrats to you both. Simon told me the other day. Let me see your ring." She crossed over to Clary to admire her engagement ring.

"Her ring?" Vixie asked, incredulity blazed across her perfect face.

"Yes. Her. Ring," Isabelle answered. "Jace asked Clary to marry him. Imagine that, he doesn't want your pathetic skank ass and it couldn't be more official."

"You stupid bitch, that's not why I'm surprised," Vixie retorted.

"What did you call me?" Isabelle challenged, charging from her spot and heading straight towards Vixie, only to be stopped by Simon half way there.

"Oh no," Clary mumbled, one hand raised to her face.

"Kick her ass, Iz," Jace yelled, earning him another smack to his head by Clary.

"Jezz, guys. Knock it off," Maia argued, helping Simon subdue Isabelle. Vixie stood there smug, one hand on her narrow hip, the other beckoning Isabelle forward. Magnus turned to Alec, gesturing one had to the site before them and said, "You see, darling. I figured out, about one hundred and fifty years ago, that all women are crazy".

After several tense moments, Simon was able to calm Isabelle down and Vixie had backed off.

"So, have we figured out a safe meeting place?" Maia asked, looking between Alec and Jace.

"Well…" Clary began, meeting Simon's eyes. He knew her look and became nervous.

"What?" he asked, both eyebrows raised to his hair line.

"We may have a way to get you into the Institute," Alec answered.

"How?" Vixie asked, the tone in her voice doubtful.

"Clary created a new ruin that we think might work," Alec explained, apprehension clear in his voice.

"Really? Wow," Maia exclaimed.

"Sure she did," Vixie grumbled.

"Awww, my little angel girl is all growed up," Magnus smiled, mocking the doting affection of a proud mother.

"I still think there is something missing," Clary smiled. "But I want to try if you're willing?" she addressed Simon.

"Sure," he replied, smiling and crossing the small area to stand in front of Clary.

"What? You're going to trust her, just like that?" Vixie questioned. "You're a bigger idiot then I thought".

Clary snapped her head in Vixie's direction, a sudden burning rage welled up inside her; for a moment, all she could see was red.

"I would trust her with my life," Simon replied honestly, without waver or hesitation. Clary began to calm down, returning her grateful and smug smile back at Simon.

"She is going to Mark you with some unknown ruin and you are going to let her? I don't care how much you trust her, that's just plain stupid," Vixie retorted, earning a death-glare from Isabelle.

"I'm not marking Simon. Isabelle is," Clary stated. Simon looked confused, but smiled as Isabelle took her place in front of him, stele ready in her hand.

"Clary feels there's a piece missing, but knows the ruin is complete. She is going to watch while I attempt to place the ruin on your skin. Are you willing?" Isabelle asked, her breath hitching at the end as she waited in anticipation of his response. Simon smiled at her, nodded and reached one hand to cup her face.

"I trust you as well, Isabelle," he plainly stated. "Maybe even more so," he whispered so only she could hear. Her smile widened and a soft blush tainted her skin. She looked away from Simon's smoldering gaze for one brief moment, examining the floor intently.

"I am the one who owes you more than words could describe," she finally responded, looking back to his face. Simon smiled as did Isabelle.

"Now," she continued. "Take off your shirt". The smile on Simon's face immediately vanished as was replaced with a confused expression; he quickly looked around to see if he was missing some joke.

"I think the ruin would work better against your heart," Isabelle explained, shrugging in nonchalance. "The closer the ruin is placed to your heart, the stronger it is".

"It makes sense," Jace stated and Simon shot him a disbelieving look.

"Come on, big boy. Strip!" Magus exalted, then began humming stripper music while shaking his hips to the beat. Alec and Maia laughed while Vixie began muttering under her breath.

Simon grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt, while Isabelle smirked in front of him. Jace began making gagging noises, earning him his third smack for the day.

Once Simon was shirtless, seriousness returned to the group. Isabelle stepped closer to him, placed one palm on his bare muscular chest and brought her stele above his heart. Their eyes locked one more time, silently wishing each other good luck.

Isabelle looked back down to the skin above Simon's heart and touched the stele to his skin. She began to draw the rune she'd seen in the library, the one that was inspired by Clary's visions: Absolution. Suddenly, she cried out in pain and her stele dropped from her hand, clattering to the ground.

"Mother fuc…" she cried, clutching her right hand to her chest.

"What happened?" Alec asked, approaching Isabelle from behind in concern.

"I don't know," she replied. "My stele burned me." She held out her palm to reveal several angry red burns across her skin. Simon took her hand gingerly to examine her injury.

"Why would it do that?" Maia asked.

"I don't know," Alec answered, both eyebrows pulled together in thought. "I've never seen one do that before."

"_Only Heaven grants Absolution."_

Clary froze at those words. Had she been the only one to hear them? She looked around, but no one seemed to have heard them. Her breath picked up as she realized the voice was in her head.

She didn't recognize the voice, but strangely it sounded familiar. Was she going crazy? Maybe the days events had tired her and she needed rest, that's why she was hallucinating. But what could it mean?

The voice she heard was distinct enough to make her ponder its implications. The voice said 'only Heaven grants absolution'; but then why had Clary seen the ruin? If there was a ruin to represent absolution, then that implies that the Nephilium can Mark it, right?

"_Only Heaven grants Absolution."_

The voiced sounded again, causing Clary to jolt. She was in a stalemate. How could she apply the ruin if only Heaven was allowed to give absolution. She closed her eyes in concentration, completely oblivious to the environment around her. She visualized the ruin in her mind, the burning sensation returning to her chest. Perhaps the ruin did depict Mount Sinai. After all, the God that resided there according to the Bible was not the God on one religious sect, but the God of many religions. He was the God of the Old Testament, the Torah, the very same book in which it spoke of the existence of Nephilium and the Mark of Cain; both entities existing in front of her at that very moment. So, perhaps there was a God, or a form like him. Would he be the only one to apply Absolution? Or was there another who could have that power? It suddenly clicked, like a light going off in her head and everything became clear.

"Only Heaven grants Absolution," Clary repeated in a contemplative tone. All discussions around her seized; all eyes on Clary.

She bent down and picked up the stele off the ground. She approached Simon and Isabelle and took Isabelle's injured hand from Simon.

"I think I have to do this one, Iz," Clary stated as she drew a small Healing ruin on Isabelle's inner wrist. Isabelle flexed her hand several times as the skin began to heal.

Clary turned to Simon and took one cleansing breath. She closed her eyes in concentration, the burning in her chest increasing tenfold. She concentrated on the vision of Absolution, taking deep steady breaths in effort to calm her pulse and relieve the pain of the burn. It felt like the fire in her chest had spread, encompassing her whole body, like the fire was licking through her vessels.

With a sharp increase in the scorching pain, she took in one quick breath and her eyes flew open. There were no iris's, no color in her eyes, only white. Her hair blew around her from an invisible wind and her skin had a faint angelic glow. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead of words, her voice sounded like music. It was not of her making or of this world, but it brought comfort and contentment to all who heard it.

"_I will grant you absolution, Simon Daylighter. But be warned, forgiveness is not awarded with out the pain and remorse of repentance," _the voice stated simply.

Simon knelt under the weight of those words. His genuflection was sincere and honorable, his head bowed in reference and homage. Clary placed her left hand on the back of Simon's bowed head, and began to draw the Absolution ruin on the base of his neck.

"_I absolve you of your demon taint and welcome you into the sanctuary of Heaven's grace". _

The moment the ruin was complete, the burning fire within Clary concentrated in her steled-hand. It was almost as if the fire leapt from her and into Simon. He cried out, falling to the ground in pure agony; the fire consuming him within. Isabelle rushed to his side, frantically looking over his body for the mode of injury, but couldn't find what was causing the pain. The others had joined her side, watching Simon writhe and twitch in anguish. Tears were falling steadily from Isabelle's face as she tried to comfort Simon.

"What the hell happened? Why is he in so much pain?" She questioned Jace, panicked and on the verge of hysteria.

"He has to be purged," he mused, reaching out to comfort Isabelle. After several long agonizing minutes, Simons torment began to abide and his breathing returned to normal. He climbed to his knees, visibly shaking from the after-effects of the excruciating pain. He began to look over his body; surely there had to be some evidence of the pain he just endured on his body. A burn? A laceration maybe? His body was intact and he felt almost euphoric.

"Am I alright?" he looked up to Isabelle, seeking confirmation. She suddenly gasped as their eyes met and his anxiety increased abruptly. She was looking at him with a look of adoration and disbelief, scanning his face with tear-filled eyes.

Simon's skin had a faint glow, almost as if someone was holding a light under his skin. His features were defined, shapely, even more perfect then they had been before. His eyes were a vivid electric blue and the Mark of Cain was gone.

"Simon," Isabelle began, her tears spilling over. She flung herself into his arms and began sobbing in earnest. "Your mark, Simon. The Mark of Cain is gone," she stammered uncontrollably.

"What?" Simon asked, unsure if he heard her correctly. Alec quickly approached him, taking in the changes to Simon himself. He looked at him in the face for a few short minutes, then looked at the back of Simon's neck to see that the Absolution ruin had remained

"What does this mean, Clary?" Alec asked astonished, but there was no answer. "Clary?"

They all turned to where Clary was last standing and saw her lying motionless on the floor.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**AN: I know that there will be a TON of questions after this chapter. All will be revealed, I promise. Leave your suggestions for some fluff/scenes you'd like to see. As long as they don't conflict with the main plot, I'll add them in. I love hearing your suggestions :D**


	14. Chapter 13 The Clairvoyant

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thanks for the amazing reviews!!! I had a lot of questions, some surprised me and other didn't. There are hints and tid bits over at the SOTF thread (link on profile). Check it out!**

Chapter 13 - The Clairvoyant

_Remember me, my child_

_When lights go out and the clutches of evil have you_

_Remember, that you are Heaven's child _

_And that we have granted you with gifts no other possess._

_Heaven's Intelligent Design is at work, but you alone have the free will to change what is to come._

_Be brave, and know that not only are you my child, but you are my Intermediary. _

It was as if she were falling through a cloud; nothing but fog and mist. She couldn't begin to understand the importance of His words, only knowing that they were from Him. His voice echoed all around her but all she could see was white, all she could feel was the sensation of falling head first into the unknown. His voice began to fade as did the memory of His words. And as quickly as she could blink, she hit full force to the ground.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clary awoke with a start, a sharp throb in her head. Her vision was blurry and the sounds around her were muffled, like she was under water. She thought she heard her name being called, over and over again. She tried to focus on the source, but couldn't locate where it was coming from. Her eyes widened and she started to panic, not understanding what happened or where she was. Her heart was pounding frantically.

"Clary?" It was Jace. "Baby, are you alright? Clary, say something."

"Jace," she tried to talk, but her mouth felt heavy and the pain was excruciating. She couldn't find him, couldn't make out anything around her. She tried to shake her head to clear her vision, but only succeeded in making the throbbing in her head increase. She reached one hand up to her eyes and tried to rub them clear.

Someone was lifting her from the ground into a sitting position, and she found that it made her headache more tolerable and her vision start to clear. She began to make out shapes around her, blurry blobs of color that started to take form. She could feel their presence around her better then she could make out who they were. Jace was knelt down beside her, Simon was on the ground in front of her with Isabelle at his side. Alec, Magnus and Maia were standing between them. She didn't know where Vixie was and didn't have the energy to care.

"Clary, what happened?" Isabelle asked through a hazy fog. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Clary began, not knowing if her speech was audible or discernible at the moment. Her head felt like it had been slammed against a wall then ran over by a semi-truck.

Her vision continued to slowly clear and she recognized where she was: in front of the Institute, on the ground. _Why? What had happened? Were they attacked? _She placed her head in her hands and closed her eyes, trying to regain equilibrium.

"Okay, what the hell just happened?" Alec asked, looking to the group at large for answers.

"What do you mean?" Vixie sarcastically asked from behind Clary. "Tweedle-Dee marked Tweedle-Dum with a _Happy Rune. _Isn't that what you all expected to happen?" she added, grabbing her chest in mock-astonishment.

"Bitch," Isabelle and Maia mumbled in unison.

"Shut the hell up, Vixie. I am tired of your shit!" Alec snapped. Rarely did he loose his cool, but this was serious. "Clary is on the floor with blood oozing from her eyes and mouth, muttering some unrecognizable language, while Simon looked like he was burning in hell. Now he's euphoric, like some kind of Phoenix rising from the fucking ashes." Clary, having heard him clearly but unable make sense of what he said, reached her hand up to check if there was blood on her. She found that he was correct; she was bleeding from her mouth and eyes. Maybe they were attacked. _But Simon? A Phoenix? _

The events of the morning started to replay in her mind. The last thing she remembered was standing in front of Simon with her eyes closed, concentrating on the Absolution Rune.

"Simon," Clary tried to focus on him. He was kneeling in the same spot where he had fallen to the ground in his fiery torment, starring at her in alarm. "Are you alright?" she asked, panic leaking into her voice.

_What have I done?_

"I'm fine, Clary," he managed to say, trying to appease her concern with a tight lipped smile. Clary's eyes were huge as saucers; she scanned his body, his face worriedly to ascertain his condition. _Was he hurt? Was he damaged in anyway? _She would never forgive herself if she had caused him to suffer yet again. _Will I ever stop hurting my best friend?_

She looked over his figure for physical signs of injury and her chest relaxed slightly when she found none. But she noticed he looked different, lighter in someway she couldn't place. She met his eyes and gasped at the remarkable vivid blue staring back at her. If there were eyes that could pierce a soul, his were it. Her breath continued to come in short gasps and she hadn't even noticed the biggest change of all.

"We need to figure out what happened. Simon, can you stand?" Jace asked, not leaving Clary's side. "You're making Clary panic."

Simon sprung to his feet in a flash; it was almost as if his body reacted before he formed a conscience thought to move. Each toned muscle in his body coiled and tensed with the smallest of effort. Simon seemed dazed at his own speed. He looked himself over, amazed at how different he felt. It was as if everything had amplified, as if he had become amazingly more perceptive. He could hear Clary's frantic heart beat as she appraised him. He could hear Vixie's impatient sighs and clicking of nails. He could smell the freshly baked bread down the street at Nelson's Family Bakery. He could hear the garbage trucks making their early morning rounds two blocks over. He could sense Isabelle's relief and could smell something emanating from her he couldn't place, but made him intensely drawn to her.

"It feels so weird," he mused. "I can hear _everything, _see _everything, _feel _everything_."

"Weren't you hyper sensitive before?" Maia asked curiously, knowing that vampires had senses much like her own.

"Yes, but it feels…intensified," he answered, taking in a deep breath to try and encompass his newly magnified senses.

It was quiet for several minutes, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

"So, what does this mean?" Maia asked. "Is Simon a…vampire anymore?" The question hung in the air for several seconds, no one knowing the answer. Clary felt her stomach drop. What had she done to her best friend? _What was he now? A mutant? A freak? _Her chest tightened and her breath halted all together. One small tear started to fall from her eye as she stared at him in horror. Simon was in front of her in a flash, catching the tear before in could plummet down her cheek.

"Clary," he whispered. She looked up to his face with overwhelming regret.

"I'm so sorry, Simon. I can't believe I did that to you. What was I thinking?" She felt helpless and remorseful, realizing she was every bit the naïve teenager rather then the proclaimed 'Angel Girl' she thought she could live up to. Who was _she _to think she could change the laws of the universe?

"Clary, don't. Don't do that," Simon spoke sternly. "You have given me a gift. The best gift; you have given part of _me _back."

Clary met his vivid blue eyes and took a deep steadying breath. "How can you be so sure, Simon? We don't know what I've done, what the ramifications of this will be."

"I can feel it here," Simon stated confidently, reaching for her hand and placing it on his chest. Clary gasped. She could distinctly feel his heart beating. She flashed her gaze to her hand, lying precariously over Simon's supposed stilled heart, then back to his face astonished. "Oh my God, Simon," she mumbled.

"_Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam," _Simon spoke with reference, a small tear falling from the corner of his eye.

Clary chocked on a sob and tried to move to comfort him, but her knees weakened beneath her as she tried to take a step. Both Jace and Simon reached out to brace her. Clary didn't know if she was weak from emotion or exhaustion, but couldn't find it in herself to care at the moment. It had been a long time since she heard Simon pray, something he would always do whether in serious reverence or in mumbled exasperation at something Clary did or said, God was never far from his lips.

His Jewish heritage had always been a part of him. It had once defined him, what he took pride in. That all changed once he was transformed into a vampire. He had felt like he had been excluded from God's light because he wasn't able to speak his name or go into a Synagogue for worship. It only intensified when he discovered that the Mark of Cain kept him from all hallowed places, even Christian ones.

"Oh Simon," Clary breathed. She launched herself into his embrace, both of them over come with emotion. Everyone took a couple steps back, giving them some private moments.

Clary felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her chest. Although Simon's _new _transformation remained a mystery and she had a lot of burning questions about it, Clary felt relieved that he could have part of himself back.

"Oh Simon," Clary began again. "I'm so happy for you." He chuckled softly. She pulled back slightly to look at his face and gasped, both hands flying to her mouth. She had finally recognized Simon's biggest change.

"The Mark of Cain! Simon, it's gone," she stammered, a million thoughts and questions zooming through her mind.

"I know," he murmured.

"What does this mean?" she asked, the panic from before rapidly reappearing.

"I don't know," he whispered. "But Clary, I'm sure it's something positive," he tried to reassure her, offering her a halfhearted smile and rubbing her arms with his hands.

"No, no, no," Clary mumbled, shaking her head back and forth violently.

"Clary, it's okay," he spoke louder now, trying to ease her anxiety. "I am alright, see." He held out both arms wide to show her that he was in one piece. As soon as his arms left her body, Clary tumbled towards the ground; her legs had given out to overwhelming exhaustion. Simon caught her quickly and helped her safely to a sitting position on the floor.

"Clary!" Jace called, racing to her side as Simon knelt beside her.

"I'm fine," she held up one hand to stop Jace's panic. "I'm just…tired, overwhelmed."

"Bring her over here, Jace," Magnus called, pointing to the side of the Institute where a small walkway lead to the private enclosed gardens within the complex.

"We need to get her safe. She is no position to defend herself if we were to be attacked," Alec added as after thought. Jace gently picked up Clary and turned to follow Magnus.

"Maia," Alec called. Maia stopped and faced him questioningly.

"Do you mind waiting here. My mother and Jocelyn should be back from the City of Bones any minute. I don't want them freaking out not being able to find us."

Maia's eyes widened infinitesimally; she had been nervous about being around adult Shadowhunters alone, only having been around them a handful of times. When she first was changed, the older members of her pack had a strong disdain for the Nephilim, calling them egotistical know-it-alls and a few other choice words. She had met Jocelyn, of course, and liked her a lot. She could see why Luke, her pack leader, loved her so much. But the few times she had seen Maryse, Maia had thought she seemed stern and stand-offish.

Isabelle saw her slight hesitancy and walked to her side. "I'll wait with her," she said and Maia shot her a grateful smile. "It'll give us a chance to talk."

"Thanks," Alec nodded curtly and turned to follow the rest of them into the gardens.

It was quiet for a couple of moments, both girls not wanting to talk first. Finally, Maia broke the awkward silence.

"I'm glad Simon seems okay," she said, turning toward Isabelle.

"Yeah, me too," Isabelle answered, nodding to the floor.

"And I'm sure Clary's just tired," Maia added solemnly. Isabelle nodded in agreement, not fully engaging Maia's olive branch. She was lost in her own internal dialogue. It was quiet for a few moments more.

"Iz, I'm really sorry…"

"Maia, I really wanna say…" they both began at the same time, then broke off smiling.

"You first," Isabelle nodded in resignation. Maia's face turned down the street, not wanting to meet Isabelle's face as she spoke.

"I'm really sorry, Iz," she started, then sighed at the admission. Isabelle looked confused. "What do you mean?" she asked. Maia turned to look at her, hoping to convey the truth in her words.

"I am sorry that I didn't get to you in time, that night…in the graveyard," she spoke tentatively, not wanting to open freshly mended wounds for Isabelle. But Isabelle stared at her, completely not expecting her misplaced remorse.

"Maia," Isabelle began. "_Do not _feel like what happened was your fault. We were attacked…end of story," Isabelle rationalized. "Besides, Simon got to me before any real damage was done," Isabelle added in attempt to wave of the incident like it hadn't effected her. But in truth, it had. Not for any fault of Maia's, but for blame she felt _she _deserved. It had been the hardest part of her recuperation. She had to admit to herself that she had put herself in that position. She felt she had been better trained then to be caught off-guard. She didn't believe she had lived up to her calling as a Shadowhunter.

"But, I was your partner," Maia tried to argue.

"Yes you were, and you fought like a rock star. Maia, you took on three demons by yourself and effectively kicked their asses. Please, I am more embarrassed then anything else." Isabelle's eyes met the ground.

"What do you mean?" Maia asked, confused.

"I just wasn't prepared," Isabelle answered. "I only had my whip and they were too strong for that. They were regenerating too fast. It's my fault for not being ready to fight," she finished glumly. Maia turned to her fully, placing both of her small hands on Isabelle's shoulders comfortingly.

"Iz, it's not your fault. You took down one of those stank-ass demons so fast, I was amazed. And, it was just with your _whip_. Plus, we didn't know they were super-charged, all buzzed up on the demon Kool-Aid. We were all unprepared," Maia stated, then paused quizzically. "Except Simon. Since when did he start carrying a sword?" Maia asked, cracking a half-crooked smile.

Isabelle laughed, "I don't know. Maybe he had one from his Dungeon and Dragon days," she wheezed through gasps of laughter. Both girls were in hysterics, picturing a goofy Simon with glasses dressed up like an elf and brandishing a sword. They made a couple more off-handed jokes at Elf-Simon's expense and wondered what character he made Clary be when they used to play.

After the laughter had died down, Maia turned to Isabelle smiling, "Did you wanna tell me something…you know, before." She gestured with her head to indicate the time before she had so needlessly apologized.

"Oh, yeah," Isabelle answered, suddenly becoming serious. She returned to studying the ground as she spoke.

"About Simon…" she began.

"Don't," Maia cut her off and sighed deeply. "I know how you both feel about each other," Maia said softly, meeting Isabelle's stunned face. "Please, it's so obvious. Everyone knows; it's no secret. It's they way you both look at each other. And I'm happy for you , honestly."

"I just didn't want you to be angry or disappointed," Isabelle explained. "I like you a lot, Maia. I consider you a good friend. But I also know that you like Simon." Isabelle waited for Maia's response, letting all the cards out on the table.

"I used to," Maia admitted. "I felt a real connection to him, from the moment we met. We both were swept up into this world by people we loved and I could relate to his…anger and frustration initially." Maia paused, taking a couple moments to compose her next thought.

"But, I relate to him on a different level. He is what I needed at the time, to show me that not all men are shit and that love can be…beautiful, even if it is among friends." Isabelle knew Maia was not just talking about her relationship with Simon, but also about his and Clary's.

"I mean, don't get me wrong," Maia continued. "Simon is all kinds of hot, especially now," she giggled.

"I know, right?" Isabelle smiled, agreeing that Simon's hotness had increased exponentially over the last year.

"From geek to chic," Maia laughed. "Who would have thought?"

"I would have," Isabelle mumbled, smiling.

"I know," Maia acknowledged, nudging Isabelle slightly with her shoulder. Isabelle returned the friendly gesture and smiled back.

"And Simon is a friend, nothing more," Maia added resolutely. Isabelle smiled and inwardly took a deep breath. A lot had happened today and she didn't know what it meant for her and Simon, but she had realized lately that no matter what obstacles they faced, she wanted to be with him…even if she had to _change _to do it.

Her reverie was broken by a familiar voice, "Isabelle, Maia. What are you guys doing out here?" Jocelyn asked. Both her and Maryse looked at the girls quizzically with an edge of concern. The girls exchanged a quick glance then addressed the two women.

"Mom, Jocelyn. You're _not _going to believe what happened today."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jace lowered Clary down on a stone bench in the garden. She was pale and blood was slowly trickling from her mouth. The throbbing in her head was dull but constant. She felt exhausted, like whatever she had done to Simon took a lot out of her. She laid there for a while with her eyes closed. She heard whispered conversations around her, but was too tired to discern them.

"I'm sure she's just tired," Magnus reassured Jace. "I'm sure it took a lot for her to change Geekachu over here into Prince Fuckward," he added, winking pointedly at Simon.

"What does that even mean?" Simon whispered exasperatedly, internally cringing at Magnus's innuendos.

"Let me, ol' wise and powerful priestess, try some energy spells around her," Magnus continued with flare, ignoring Simons question. "I'm sure its just what she needs," he added as he sashayed toward Clary's still figure. Alec clasped a hand on Jace's rigid shoulder in assurance, but Jace shrugged it off.

"Don't," Jace snapped.

"Don't what?" Alec retorted.

"Don't act like she's dying, man. Don't give me the 'oh-she'll-pull-through' gestures," Jace hissed. "I can't take it".

"She'll be fine, Jace," Vixie said, suddenly standing behind him and rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"She's _'the Angel girl'. _She doesn't go out like this," she added with a smirk.

Jace was in her face within a millisecond, "What do you mean, 'she doesn't go out like this'? Do you know something you're not saying? Or are you just _trying _to be a bitch?" Vixie, just shrugged nonchalantly, not answering his question directly.

"I swear by the Angel, Vixie, if you know something…" he ranted through his teeth, fists clenched by his side and jaw tight.

"Clary!" Jocelyn screamed, blurring past Jace as she raced to Clary's side. Magnus had just finished his enchantments and Clary's eyes flitted open.

"Oh Clary," Jocelyn hummed softly, pulling her into a sitting hug.

"I'm fine mom. Just a little tired."

"It's amazing. We leave for five minutes…" Maryse mumbled, and Isabelle stifled a chuckle.

"Well, hello Vixie," Maryse said sternly. "I must say that I am not that pleased to see you here."

"Who is?" Vixie murmured. Magnus's hand shot up into the air and a bright smile painted on his face. All eyes studied him, incredulous. "What? I think she's been fun," he muttered, lowering his hand sheepishly. Vixie smirked, looking at the ground.

"What the hell were you all thinking?" Jocelyn directed her anger toward Jace and Alec, having been the only two adults in the whole situation. "Why would you let her use an unknown rune? And on Simon of all people?"

"I expected more from you two," Maryse added sternly. Jace and Alec were both quiet, not wanting to add fuel to the fire by arguing their justification. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the smartest decision.

"Please," Clary started. "Don't blame them. This one is all mine." She took a deep breath and stood from the bench. Her feet had steadied and she didn't feel like toppling over.

"I've been given a gift, one that requires immense responsibility. My confidence from the success of the Alliance Rune's application fueled my confidence. I won't make that mistake again. I wasn't thinking of the consequences; I only thought of what I assumed would happen."

"What did you think would happen?" Jocelyn asked softly.

"I thought Simon would be able to come into the Institute. That it would provide him shelter and safety. That he would be able to venture onto any hallowed ground without meeting a solid wall," she explained. All eyes turned to Simon, who was clearly standing on hallowed ground. Maryse and Jocelyn were shocked.

"That's not all," Magnus added excitedly. "Repeat that little prayer ditty you said before," he added, motioning to Simon like a dog trainer trying to get his pet to do a trick.

"Mag," Alec warned softly, placing his hand on his overly zealous boyfriend's back to try and reel him in.

"I can speak His name," he blurted out. "I can speak of…God." His face lit up as he said it once more.

"By the Angel," Maryse mumbled in awe.

"Clary, what rune did you place on Simon?" Jocelyn asked. Clary began to tell them about their conversation in the library. About how the visions of the Sanctuary and Repentance Runes came to her in visions and how she had placed them together to form Absolution. She told them of her rationalization of how and why it would work. She told them of her thought process behind her decision to mark him herself, forgoing to mention the voice in her head as a means to keep them from thinking she was crazy on top of everything else. She told them of how she didn't remember what had happened after she stood in front of Simon, just that she felt incredibly tired. Jace, Alec, and Isabelle provided some information, adding to the story from their perspectives or if Clary forgot to mention some detail. But in all their revelations and reflections, they were still at a loss to decipher exactly what had happened to Simon.

"We need answers," Jocelyn stated, running her fingers nervously through her hair.

"I think it's time to see him," Maryse said, looking meaningfully at Jocelyn. Everyone else quietly listened to their exchange. Jocelyn looked reluctant.

"It's been long enough and times are changing, Jocelyn," Maryse continued hurriedly. "I can feel it. It's time they see him. He will know where to go from here. We need more guidance and the Silent Brothers don't know enough…"

"I know," Jocelyn interrupted, rubbing her hand down her face in frustration. "She's my baby, Maryse." Jocelyn mumbled, her eyes watering as she looked pleadingly into Maryse's face. Clary watched the exchange in curiosity.

"And he is mine," Maryse added sharply, pointing directly at Jace. Jace was taken aback. Everyone had mixed looks of frustration and confusion on their faces. Everyone, but Magnus and Vixie. "I'm scared too, for both of them Jocelyn. But we need to see _him. _He will have the answers and it's time they all know the truth."

"What…" Alec began, but was halted when his mother held up one hand to stop him, her eyes not leaving Jocelyn as they stared each other down.

After several tense moments, Jocelyn bowed her head and mumbled, "I know. Let's go see him."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"The Oracle is here?" Clary asked, pointing at an old gothic-looking Catholic Cathedral on the corner of Madison and East 50th street. Jocelyn, Clary, Jace, Simon and Isabelle sat in Eric's minivan appraising the large building before them. Jace scanned the streets, looking for anyone hiding before they stepped from the car.

"He has lived here at St. Patrick's for the past seventy-five years," Jocelyn answered as she turned off the van's engine and stepped out to the street.

"Seventy-five years?" Isabelle cocked on eyebrow questioningly. "How old is this guy? He's not going to croak on us, is he?"

Jocelyn chuckled, "Of course not. Father Thomas has been around for many more years than he has served here. But let's get some things straight," she turned to face them, both palms up to stop their advance towards the door. "Father Thomas is not of Shadowhunter blood, nor is he a Downworlder. He has been gifted with Sight and has seen much of the Shadow World. He is known as Saint Thomas the Clairvoyant to those in the Clave, Father Thomas to his parishioners here at St Patrick's. He is an oracle, a prophet some would say. It's been a mystery how he has survived this long without succumbing to death. Some have said he is part warlock, some say he is protected by Heaven. In any case, he was at one point an instrumental asset to the Clave. Many do not know he is here."

"Why haven't we heard of him until now?" Isabelle asked. "I mean, a mundane that can see the Shadow World is pretty rare."

"Back before Valentine took power, Saint Thomas was highly regarded among the Clave," Jocelyn explained, gesturing to emphasize her words. "Some council members wanted to use the Mortal Cup to turn him into a Shadowhunter, arguing that since he was blessed by Heaven, his age did not matter. To be truthful, I believe they wanted his secrets protected by forcing him into the Silent Brotherhood." Jocelyn sighed deeply.

"What happened," Clary asked. "Why didn't they change him?"

"He was seen as a radical, an outsider. Some didn't feel his visions were genuine," Jocelyn explained, tucking her auburn hair behind one ear, a gesture Clary recognized as a nervous trait of her mother's; clearly something was bothering Jocelyn about this topic, but Clary decided not to press it.

Jocelyn continued; "His fate was sealed when he started speaking of visions of the future; one where Shadowhunters and Downworlders fought side by side against evil," a small smile curved the ends of her mouth and the group exchanged proud glances. "You can imagine how well that went over. Saint Thomas quickly lost his favor among the Clave and was shunned as a fraud."

"Do you believe in his visions?" Isabelle asked. Jocelyn took a deep breath and looked at the ground for a moment.

"I'm not sure," she muttered and then was silent for a moment more. "One of his visions," she paused and met Clary's eyes. "Was about a girl with Angel's blood…" she broke off, tears lining her eyes. Clary felt her stomach drop. Rarely has she seen her mother so stricken with emotion so quickly. Her gut instincts told her that this was big. But more than that, she felt strangely angry. Was there something else her mother was keeping from her? Was this what the Seelie Queen warned her about that night in Idris? She had mentioned it when she had asked Clary to suggest to Luke that Merloin would be a good representative to the Clave as a Faerie councilman. Clary hadn't thought much about that night til now. But something in the back of her mind told her that there was more her mother hadn't told her.

"What was it about?" Jace asked sternly, stepping in front of Clary.

"It said," a soft, reverent voice replied. "That she will have the heart of a saint…and a mean right hook." Jocelyn spun on her heels, shock on her face.

"Father Thomas," she smiled, reaching to embrace the elderly man behind them, garbed in a Friar-Tuck-like robe. He smiled genuinely at Jocelyn as he embraced her.

As Clary appraised him, she was hard press to believe that this man wasn't a day over forty-five. He was incredibly good looking with salt and pepper hair, bright green eyes and a killer smile. He looked more like one of those cheesy catalog models, rather than a Catholic priest.

Father Thomas broke his embrace with Jocelyn and addressed the group, all of which had hesitant, anxious expressions on their faces.

"My, my, Jocelyn," he smirked as he looked them over. "Such a young group you have here; and so anxious. It couldn't be because of me, could it?" Jocelyn chuckled, clasping her hand on Father Thomas's shoulder.

"No, Saint Thomas. We have had an eventful day and they are just anxious for some answers," Jocelyn replied, motioning her chin towards Simon's direction.

Father Thomas smiled at Simon, "So I see," he nodded. "Although, it was to be expected," he mused.

"What do you mean, 'it was to be expected'?" Clary asked, brow furrowing in consternation.

"Oh, Clary dear," Father Thomas addressed Clary. "My, you have grown. And such a beauty," he whispered to Jocelyn, who nodded her head in agreement. Clary turned her gaze to her mother, a question in her eyes.

"I came to Father Thomas shortly after our arrival to the City, when you were just a baby. He helped hide us from the Clave and is actually the one who suggested Magnus's help to cloud your vision," Jocelyn answered. Clary was confused. _Why hadn't her mother told her this before?_ She flashed back to that night in Idris, the night when the Seelie Queen had approached her asking her for a favor. The Queen had been right, there was something her mother had kept from her; Clary knew that now. _Was this it? _She couldn't help but feel like she had been lied to, again. It took her a long time to forgive her mother from hiding the Shadow World from her, for not telling her who she was. _And it was _his _idea to hide it from her?_

Clary's head snapped back to Father Thomas, rage plainly on her face, "Why?" she simply asked.

"Because, you were not ready, my angel," Father Thomas answered with authority, a sweet smile on his lips. The both of them stood still for several minutes. Clary studied Father Thomas diligently, trying to find malice in his eyes, but found none. She slowly felt the rage subside, but was left with countless questions.

"Okay, what is going on?" Jace asked, trying to make some sense out of this impromptu confession. "What do you know about Clary? About what happened to Simon?" Father Thomas smiled at him patiently, looking between Clary and Jace affectionately.

"What I know is about the pair of you. Looks like you got the Angel's gift, I see," he said, pointing at the ring on Clary's finger. Clary followed his gesture and looked at her ring, then turned her confused gaze to Jace. He met her eyes, apologetically and told her silently that now was not the time. She pulled her brows together angrily, frustrated. Was _everyone _keeping secrets from her?

"It is so exciting to see my visions, prophecies if you will, come to fruition. And look, I have three of them standing here before me," Father Thomas beamed, motioning to the small group. Jocelyn muffled a chuckle at his side.

"Okay, is anyone else creeped-out by the weird priest-dude?" Isabelle asked under her breath. Clary and Simon half-heartedly raised their hands, while Jace grimaced.

Father Thomas laughed; "I'm sorry. It's just…well. Let's just say, this meeting has been a long time coming," he smirked while rocking on his heels. He was positively beaming with excitement.

"Come in, come in," he exclaimed, ushering them through the cathedral doors. "We have much to discuss." They walked through the massive, ancient-looking wooden doors into the foyer. It was a breathtaking site. The ceiling and walls were joined together by countless stone arches, mosaic glass windows were scattered throughout the room depicting different saints and angels, and there was a whole wall lined with small candles in rose colored votives, providing a soft ambiance.

"It's beautiful," Clary whispered as she looked around.

"Not compared to you," Jace answered, staring at her with intense affection. The light from one of the stained-glass windows fell on Clary's face perfectly, making her look angelic. She blushed softly and looked at the ground, then took his hand, squeezed it and smiled.

The group followed Father Thomas to the back of the alter. The massive wall that served as the backdrop of the alter was illustrated with countless religious scenarios: angels and saints, chalices and round hosts of bread, a crow, a cross and a crown of thorns. He approached part of the wall in the corner that depicted a golden arch with angels adorning the sides. It looked like part of the wall decorations, but when Father Thomas approached it, a small door swung open and he ushered them through it.

"I have lived here a long time and have found this place an excellent place to perform my rituals," Father Thomas explained while leading them down a narrow spiral staircase that seemed to go down for miles.

"You see, back in 1927 when the diocese renovated this place, they conveniently walled up the entrance to the old catacombs," Father Thomas explained, gitty as a school-boy. "Lucky for me, it worked out perfect. I use these to have my rituals and can use them to escape, if anyone comes looking for me."

"Looking for you?" Jocelyn asked in alarm. "Father, are you in danger."

"Oh no, no, no," he answered with a wave of his hand in dismissal. "I haven't had any threats since your husband came looking a couple years back. But I could see him coming a mile away," he chuckled, pointing to his temple. Jace and Clary exchanged glances.

"Come to think of it, there was a boy that came here not too long ago, asking for the Oracle," Father Thomas mused. " I, of course, was out fishing that day. But, he never returned. Huh…" he broke off.

"Saint Thomas," Isabelle began.

"Oh my child, you can call me Father," Father Thomas interrupted. "I don't do the whole 'saint' thing. After all, no one but the almighty can grant us sainthood," he added with a chuckle.

"Forgive me," Isabelle giggled. "I am curious. Why choose to hide here? I am sure the Clave would be more than willing to here your visions now and offer you clemency."

"Well, my dear. I am afraid that I am not called to serve the Clave," he answered plainly.

"But, you have seen so much. How do you narrow yourself by being a Catholic Priest?" Isabelle asked bluntly, earning her an elbow thrust to her side by Clary.

"Are you asking me why I am a priest, my dear?" Father Thomas asked patiently.

"Well, yeah," Isabelle answered.

"I serve one religious sect because I believe it to be the true path to Heaven, just like my prophetic brothers of other sects follow those teachings because they feel the same. But no matter what religion we choose to abide by, we all answer to the same Heaven. And regardless of what path we follow, we all fight the same evil that plagues this world," he answered with an endearing, understanding smile.

Isabelle was silent as she processed what he had said. The belief of Heaven had always been an argument of contention for younger Shadowhunters, those who have not seen an angel on Earth for countless years. Many of the younger generation would question the existence of the Angel. Is there really such a thing? Where was the evidence?

But, over the last year, there had been so much revelation that it made Isabelle rethink the possibility of the existence of Heaven and it's Angels. It was hard for her to process. She had always been the flamboyant, wild one of the family. She lived life carefree and without consequence because she didn't believe that there was such a thing as Divine Intervention. But, what if she was wrong? She had a lot of processing to do. But her priority was to find out what happened to Simon, it was the reason she was there. She needed to find answers before she could begin to decipher the rest.

They arrived to a small room at the end of a large dank, dark tunnel far under the cathedral. It was small and circular, but large enough to fit the six of them comfortably. There was a round fire pit in the middle of the floor, with plush deep red cushions surrounding it. The walls were lined with tall, gold candle tiers.

"Please, sit. Make yourselves comfortable," Father Thomas exclaimed while he began lighting the candles around them. They watched him as he pulled out several ingredients from a small box and lined them up on small table along the wall. He was muttering under his breath as he worked, and the five of them exchanged nervous glances.

After several minutes, Father Thomas gathered a few of the vials off a table that was placed along the rounded wall and joined them around the circle. He placed them in front of him along with a small silver handled knife and started to mix some of the ingredients into a small clay bowl. After several minutes and mumbled prayers, he looked up to meet their anxious faces.

"It does my heart good to see you both, finally together," Father Thomas smiled, gesturing between Jace and Clary, who were sitting obviously close to each other. "And, I must say, Jace. You are the spitting image of your father," he smiled

"You knew my father?" Jace asked, wondering which father he meant. Valentine? Michael? Robert? Or the birth father he never knew?

"Oh, not your birth father, no," Father Thomas answered as if he could read his mind. "But you are the human-image of Ithuriel if I've ever saw one. When he told me all those years ago, that he was to have a son, well. I told him, I said, 'How are you going to manage that?' I couldn't believe it, cause you see, Angel's can't have S-E-X," he leaned in to whisper. "They don't have the parts, you see," he chuckled.

"Imagine my awe when he told me of the torture he planned to endure just to make sure you two were here." Clary and Jace sat completely still, stunned into silence. Simon and Isabelle exchanged questioning glances, wondering what they were talking about, while Jocelyn sat silent, her gaze locked onto the licking flames of the fire pit.

"What? You didn't think that a mere mortal like Valentine could trap a Citizen of Heaven without that being the Angel's will, did you?" Father Thomas asked across the firelight. "How mundane of you," he smiled knowingly.

There were several minutes of silence, both Jace and Clary reliving that day in Idris when they found a beaten, tortured Angel Ithuriel trapped in the Wayland Manor basement. The thought of him being there, going through years of excruciating torture by his _own free will_ was nauseating. Not to mention the idea of him enduring it simply for them to have his blood, thereby giving them the gifts they had, was unbelievable. There were so many questions, so many things that needed answering. But where to begin?

"I think you should start from the beginning, Thomas," Jocelyn muttered, her gaze not leaving the fire. She looked stern and in deep thought; not the light-hearted Jocelyn that had reacquainted with a long-lost dear friend outside the cathedral moments ago. The atmosphere had changed: more somber, more bleak, more vital.

Everyone turned their rapt attention to Father Thomas. He studied the fire for a moment before beginning.

"I do not now how old I was when the Angels first started talking to me. And yes, I said Angels. Plural. I have spoken to many over the years, including Raziel. At first, what they showed me came in dreams. It didn't make sense to me then, but looking back, I think they were trying to start me off slow. Most of them were blurred visions. Foggy. Unclear. But they were always the same, only on repeat. As I became older, I recognized the pattern and began to wonder if my dreams had meaning. Almost as if they were waiting for me to make the connection, I started having waking dreams, more like the visions I have now. They were clear, precise. They had meaning and I could decipher them pretty easily."

"At first, they were warnings of immediate future events: a hurricane, a murder, an earthquake. I am ashamed to say that it took me a while to realize that I could do something with them, and unfortunately many lives were lost until I made that distinction. To my defense, I was still only a child. But it plagued me for many years. Still does." Father Thomas became reverently silent, reliving those times when he felt helplessly clueless. The others did not break his deliberation, but waited patiently for him to continue. It did not take him long to come back to the present.

"As time passed, and I proved myself to be an accurate and worthy prophet and servant, the Angels began having full on discussions with me. We would talk about many things, and they would answer a lot of my questions about the world in general. I remember the first time I saw him, the Angel Ithuriel. He was kind and loving and I was completely struck by him. His devotion to the Omnipotent Design, as he called it, was incredible. When he spoke of it, I could literally feel the awe he felt for it. He warned me that times would be hard, but he spoke of two beings that would bring balance and peace to future generations. He told me of a boy and a girl who would share his blood. That these two would be blessed with gifts from Heaven."

"The girl was to be kind, tender, devoted and compassionate. Her gifts were not only in combat, but she was to be a mediator between Heaven and Earth. And she would speak the language of the Angels. The boy was to be passionate, head-strong but wise, and a warrior. He was to be gifted with the arts of battle. The best on Earth. His job was to protect the girl at all costs. He was also to be a visionary, one who would talk to Angels. They were made for each other, by Heaven's design. My job was to find them, to trust them, to guide them and to encourage them down the path they were meant to travel. For a long time now, you both have been my anchor, my hope, and my drive. I have watched you grow from afar these many years and I've guided your actions from my hiding place. You do not know how long I have waited to meet you both."

"I am not a visionary," Jace spoke harshly. "And I am not the best warrior," he added adamantly.

"Are you to tell me that you have not spoken to an Angel? That you have not had visions, nightmares, of things to come?" Father Thomas asked, already knowing the answer.

The truth was that Jace had always been plagued with horrific nightmares, ones with countless world's filled with savage, blood-thirsty demons on the brink of entering Earth's realm. If there was a hell, his nightmares would personify it. He often awoke in a panicked sweat having seen the sheer magnitude of awaiting conquerors. To think that they were vision instead of dreams made Jace nauseous and he instinctively pulled Clary closer.

"As for you being the best-of-the-best, you just needed a catalyst," Father Thomas added, winking at Clary.

"What of Simon?" Clary asked, shaking her head to clear it. "What can you tell us about him?"

"One of my earlier visions was of a dark-haired vampire with the Mark of Cain. The vision was unclear, but I would always distinctly see him travel through time. As I watched him, it would be as if he would become younger, more vibrant as the world around him went backwards. The Mark upon his face would slowly start to fade as he moved. It never made sense to me, until I saw you today," Father Thomas explained, addressing Simon

"I don't understand," Simon stated.

"I don't either," Father Thomas chuckled. "But all will be revealed in His time," he added, pointing to the sky.

"To answer more questions, we need to cast a circle. Unfortunately, I will require a sacrifice, blood to be exact. And reluctantly, I think our circle will be more complete if I have an offering from one of you." Father Thomas pointed at Jace and Clary, expecting that since they had the Angel's blood, their sacrifice would solidify a direct connection to Heaven.

Jace stood immediately, taking the silver handled blade from the floor and sliced his hand through. He held his dripping palm over the bowl of herbs and spices, allowing the flowing blood to cover them completely.

Father Thomas smiled at Jace, then stood and poured the contents of the clay bowl into the fire. The flames turned from a bluish-orange to purple and red. The smoke gathering around the room began to thicken and the smells emanating from the fire were almost hypnotic.

"I have always known that the unity of Downworlders and Shadowhunters was coming," Father Thomas spoke softly. "The Angel Raziel told me that it would mark the start of the Apocalypse. The time of the Angel's Children."

Father Thomas sat on the cushion, his legs folded in front of him. "I am going to go into a trance. Once I have completely gone under, you will be allowed to ask your questions. If Heaven has an answer and is willing to provide it, I will become the intermediary. If there is no answer, then I will be silent. This takes much concentration, so please keep respectful. It will help with the Angel Children's presence, but it will still take a large amount of effort".

The air stilled and Father Thomas became still and reverent. His head was bowed and his palms rested on his folded legs. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed, almost as if there was now a slight buzzing in the air. Father Thomas's head snapped up and his eyes were a vivid white.

Jocelyn began the questioning: "Is Simon a vampire?" Father Thomas's voice was distant, an echo that reverberated around the room.

_Yes, in its truest and purest form._

"In its purest form?" Jace questioned. "But, vampirism is caused by a demon's disease; when it infects a human, it transforms their bodies into something…undead. How can that be pure?" Father Thomas smiled slightly; not his comforting, warming smile from before, but one that was slightly uneasy.

_Heaven's designs are always pure in the form in which they were intended. He magnifies what its original intent was to be. _

"Original intent? How could that be?" Jocelyn asked, confused. "He was only just changed this way moments ago. Vampires have existed as they are now for hundreds of years. Simon is the first of his kind. How could he be the original intent of the vampire when the ones who have existed before him have been so for eons?" Father Thomas was silent for a moment, then answered quickly and efficiently.

_When Simon took the Mark of Cain, he did so without fault and without regard for his own sacrifice. He accepted whatever punishment followed willingly in order to protect his friends and to secure a future for Shadowhunters and Downworlders. It was his sacrifice that allowed him to receive Absolution; without it, he would have been damned to walk this world alone, as his kind before him. _

The five of them exchanged questioning looks, all asking silently the same question. The timeline just wasn't adding up. It made no sense to them. Jace was about to say as much, but Father Thomas spoke again.

_Vampirism is the disease caused by Cain's original sin. He was tempted by the Demon of Envy; it would whisper to him, cause him to go mad with jealousy of his brother Abel's favor among Heaven. It infected him, causing him to murder from its constant presence and he was not strong enough to fight it. _

_When God discovered his crime, he called to Cain ' your brother's blood cries out to me from the ground. Now you are under a curse and driven from the ground, which opened its mouth to receive your brother's blood from your hand. You will be a restless wanderer on the Earth'. _

_The Vampires are children of Cain, forever cursed to walk this world alone, forever 'marked' in recognition for what they are. _

_When Simon received Absolution, he transformed into what Cain's original intent was to be: a Veritas Lamia; a true vampire, without the taint of the demon's influence and infection of Envy. From this day forward, all children from Simon's seed will be gifted the speed, accuracy and strength of the Veritas Lamia, having been cleansed from the sins of their father. _

Jace started becoming skeptical. _How could this be true? _Yes, Simon was different now, but how could there be an original intent of something to exist _after_ the error form occurred. It just wasn't adding up.

"You think like a mortal, my son," Father Thomas spoke precisely in his own voice, looking directly at Jace. "Heaven has no timeline, just it's Omnipotent Design."

"But, Simon isn't aging," Isabelle retorted. "He cant physically change. He can't have children, can he?" Father Thomas turned his attention to her with a sharp head turn and the echoed voice returned.

_He has begun aging, and will continue to do so until he finds his mate. Then, once he has marked her as his own, they both will stop aging, leaving them countless years to populate the Veritas Lamia. This is _

_Heaven's original intent. _

Simon had been silent through the entire exchange. Honestly, he was not that interested in what he was or how he came to be. He was still reveling in the euphoria of his change and wanted nothing more then to be alone with Isabelle. But as the prophet spoke of his changed form, he did have one question, one more _problem_ that needed to be addressed. "Do I still need to drink blood?" he asked.

_The blood needed was repayment for the life taken so many years ago. It is not a necessity for you, but will strengthen you if given willingly._

It was quiet for a long time. The atmosphere was buzzing with the excitement of proclamation. There had been so much said and so many more questions to answer.

"Who is after Clary?" Jace asked, wanting to get to his biggest problem. Father Thomas sat erect, his brow began to furrow and his head began to snap back and forth, as if some internal battle was happening in his mind.

_I do not know. _

His voice was a hiss

_He wants her, wants her badly, wants her as his own. But, you knew that already._

He stopped moving, smiling wickedly at Jace. Clary shuttered.

"Why does he want her?" Jace continued his line of questioning, completely oblivious to the change in Father Thomas.

_Much like Simon, he wishes to repopulate the world, _Father Thomas said, one eyebrow quirked and a sneer in his voice.

"Using Clary?" Jace asked, frantic.

_Yes, _Father Thomas hissed.

"Why? How?" Jace asked, sounding resolutely unnerved.

_Valentine experimented a great deal with Downworlders. He found ways to strengthen their demonic properties as well as using it to increase demon powers and passed this knowledge on to him. It is this way he has strengthened his warriors. It is this same way he plans to use Clary. He will succeed._

"No!" Jace shouted, rising to his feet. The atmosphere changed immediately as a brisk mysterious wind blew through the small room, blowing out the red and purple flames in the pit. Father Thomas slumped to the ground and Jocelyn rushed to his side, helping him sit up.

"Oh no," Father Thomas mumbled.

"What is it?" Jocelyn asked concerned. "What's wrong Father?"

"He entered my vision," Father Thomas answered in shock, staring blankly at the fire.

"Who?" Jocelyn asked.

"Beelzebub."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**AN: Wow! That was fun to write!**

**I have, once again, set up a link on my profile for bonus material. If you guys have play list suggestions, let me know. My awesome beta, EBP, added some great songs to the mix. Thanks a millionz!!! You are the BEST!**


	15. Chapter 14 Beelzebub

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Chapter 14 - Beelzebub

"_They're coming!" the young alter boy screams in a panic as he hurdles himself through the front foyer of the cathedral. He turns on the spot and slams the huge wooden doors shut, trying to barricade them with his small weight. _

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

_The doors moan and crack in protest as they are pounded on from the outside. An old man throws himself to the doors, adding his weight to keep them shut and muttering prayers in the Old Language. _

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

"_Anthony," the old man pants, straining against the onslaught on the doors. _

"_Y-y-yes, Father Argue?" the boy stutters._

"_You must…"_

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

"…_warn him. Sound the alarm, my child," he orders, sweat drenching the sides of his face. _

_Boom. Boom. Crack._

"_They have found him!"_

"_But Father, you won't be safe!" the boy cries, tears of fear and anguish fall from his eyes. _

"_Don't think of me," the old priest answers in a hurry. "Go! Now!"_

_Boom. Crack. Crack._

_Plaster from above starts to rain like hail around them. The old wood around the walls croaks and shutters. _

"_Run, Anthony! Run now!"_

_The boy turns on his heel and sprints down the center aisle, flanked by rows and rows of wooden pews. The stained-glass windows shatter and fall to the ground as he runs full speed to his destination, to the only hope they have. He can hear the front doors give way as he approaches the alter. He sees the flashing blue lights in his peripheral vision and ducks just in time to avoid a wooden pew whizzing through the air. He hears the agonized cries of Father Argue as his bones crush under the throws of their attackers. _

_Anthony drops to his knees in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary, trying not to look behind him, fearing what he would see. _

_He reaches one hand out and presses softly on the golden rose adorned on Her ivory pedestal. It clicks into place. _

_The boy smiles, triumphant. _

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Father Thomas, who is Beelzebub?" Jocelyn asked quietly, trying to sound calm but Clary could see the underlying fear in her mother's eyes.

Father Thomas was pale, diaphoretic and shuttering uncontrollably. He was clutching at Jocelyn's shirt like it was a lifeline, staring hurriedly from Jace to Clary as if he knew that something horrible was going to happened to them and he was powerless to stop it. He kept mumbling and stuttering through his tears, gasping 'No, no, no' over and over again. Jocelyn maintained her efforts in calming him, trying to get him to respond in some coherent way. But the priest remained inconsolable.

Jace was standing ramrod straight next to Clary, his fists were clenched at his sides and he was seething through his teeth. He was staring fiercely into the fire pit, almost as if he was psyching himself up to plunge into it head first.

Simon was pacing behind her so fast he was almost a blur. He would occasionally pause to rake his hand threw his hair and exchange nervous glances between Clary and Isabelle; he was just as terrified and furious as Jace. Isabelle was staring at Father Thomas, horrified. Her eyes are widened in disbelief, reflecting the questions Clary had herself.

_What had just happened? __What did this all mean? Were they in danger? Was she to be taken away from her family? From Jace? _Clary was afraid of what the answers could be. She thought back to the ritual moments ago, when Father Thomas had morphed from a kind, loving man to a hissing, sinister creature. It had looked like Father Thomas changed at the end of the ceremony, almost as if he was being possessed by something evil. His warned proclamation was spat like venom, telling of unyielding plans for Clary's capture and torture. _But it couldn't be true, could it? _

So much had been said; she finally seemed to understand why she had the gifts she did and her panic about Simon's future was somewhat appeased, for now. But when the Angels explained their Omnipotent Design through Father Thomas as the intermediary, it seemed fundamentally good, accurate. Clary automatically felt the truth behind Simon's heritage and her place in this world. It seemed right, although shocking to hear.

Her face was calm, almost reverent as she thought about the final part of the ritual, not revealing the array of emotions lying underneath the surface. She thought through it carefully, assessing the events that just happened in the small room under the old church. It had occurred to Clary that what Father Thomas said in the last moments of the ritual were proclamations about her unavoidable demise. She was scared, terrified. But something seemed off about the supposed unenviable success of who ever was after her. It seemed stale, not real, and not as forthcoming as it had seemed moments ago in the trawls of prophetic declaration. She wished Jace would calm down enough to see it.

"Father," Jocelyn began. Father Thomas turned to face her. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated and full of overwhelming terror.

"He found me," Father Thomas mumbled, relentless tears streaming down his reddened cheeks.

"Who found you?" Jocelyn asked. "Beelze…"

"Don't say his name!" Father Thomas screamed in a panic, the sound reverberating around the circular stone walls. Simon stopped his pacing and stood as motionless as Jace, both men waiting for Father Thomas to continue.

"I should have known," Father Thomas whimpered. "I should have known he would find me. That he'd get to me."

Clary stood from her spot across the fire pit and moved to join her mother at Father Thomas's side. It was instinctive, as if some unknown force drove her to be with him in his moment of despair. She sat next to Father Thomas while his fearful gaze followed her every move, like if he were to blink she would disappear into oblivion.

"Father, please," she began as she reached for his hand. The moment she touched him, the priest's face relaxed minutely. Clary felt a deep, faint burn in her chest as she held him. It almost felt as if part of the fire in her was traveling from her heart, through her arm and into Father Thomas's hand. It wasn't painful, not as much as it had burned to give the Absolution Rune to Simon. But Clary felt as if part of whatever was in her was finding its way into Father Thomas in effort to help calm him.

"Oh, my child," Father Thomas cried through a half-formed smile. "You bless me."

Clary began again, "Father, I need to know what we're facing. Jace and I need to know everything. We cannot be hidden in the dark any longer." At that, she turned her steady gaze to her mother as if to say 'I'm tired of being lied to. I'm a big girl. I can handle it'.

Jocelyn met her stern gaze with one of her own. Clary knew that her mother would do whatever she had to in order to protect her daughter. But Clary was tired of half-truths and ill-formed lies. She wanted everything out in the open, including what had just happened during the ritual. Her mother looked like she wanted to argue her case, but Clary shook her head. This was not the time to discuss the deceit she felt surrounding her. But soon she would have to talk to both Jace and Jocelyn. She needed to know everything; no more secrets, no more lies.

Father Thomas pulled himself straight, used the sleeve of his tunic to wipe away the tears from his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Please, forgive me." He coughed softly. "I'm sorry I was so distraught."

"No, Father," Jocelyn sympathized. "If I judged that scenario correctly, you handle possession with finesse." Jocelyn smiled sweetly.

Clary cocked her head and grimaced at her mother. _How could she joke at a time like this? And about possession? Jeez! _She was embarrassed by her mother's lack of grace. But Father Thomas just laughed out loud and shook his head in appreciation. Apparently both their rockers were off a tad.

"I need to know what is happening, now!" Jace's voice was forceful and demanding, cutting through the momentary morbid humor. Clary looked at his face and didn't recognize what she saw. Fear, yes. Hatred, yes. But there was something alight under his eyes that she had never seen before and she felt oddly drawn to him.

As if Jace's words had unyielding command behind them, Father Thomas began to speak.

"I will not repeat his name again," Father Thomas spoke sternly. "To speak of it is profanation." The priest wiped his brow from the beads of sweat pooling there. He attempted to calm himself in order to continue, but his voice shook as he spoke..

"He is known as the oldest, most powerful Greater Demon. He is evil incarnate; the birth father of all demons. His tactics are brutal and his victories endless." Father Thomas shuttered as he spoke the last, pulling the rosary around his waist to his hands before he continued.

"He encompasses all seven sins and uses them to his advantage. His power is beyond anything this realm has seen in many years. And he has countless minions under his control." Jace shuttered and his eyes closed involuntarily. The images of his nightmares flashed before his eyes; visions of snarling, drooling, red-eyed demons awaiting orders for destruction. His breath came out in rattles as he vividly remembered his dreams of terror. The thought of them being a reality sent Jace into a tailspin of anguish.

Father Thomas had not continued and was eyeing Jace nervously. He began playing with the end of his rosary in order to distract his shaking hands.

"Tell me more," Jace said with his eyes closed in a concentrated calm. He needed to know exactly what he was up against, exactly what he would have to destroy in order to keep his Clary safe. It was his purpose, his mission to defend her; and there was no one or nothing that would take her from him now or ever.

Clary watched Jace, her eyes fixed on his rigid face. She could see how tense he was and could almost read his mind, knowing that he was on the verge of grabbing her and whisking her away to some dark hole in a distant part of the world to keep her safe. Her heart clenched as she watched him, falling deeply in love with him exponentially with every second that passed. She wanted to go to his side, but knew that if she left Father Thomas, she would take whatever comfort she was providing him with her.

"Jace," she whispered sweetly. Jace took a deep breath, opened his eyes and met her gaze. Clary could see the overwhelming panic and fear in his eyes. She tried to reassure him with hers, conveying that she would not be taken without a fight. She was his partner in every since of the word and he would not fight this battle alone. Several unsaid statements passed between them: fear, love, devotion, but most of all trust that they were in this together.

Isabelle rose from her seat and stood in front of Jace. She grabbed her brother's face until his eyes locked with hers.

"You will not be doing this alone, Jace," she said softly.

"It's my job to protect her," Jace quipped.

"And it's my job to protect you," she retorted quickly. Jace began to protest but she cut him off quickly.

"You are my brother, by love if not by blood. I love you and Clary insanely and you _will not _be doing this alone," she spoke firmly.

Clary looked at Jace and smiled. She nodded at him questioningly, asking for his acceptance of help. He closed his eyes numbly and assented.

Father Thomas watched the scene fold out with admiration. He finally started to understand his previous visions of a joined hunting party, knowing that they would all play an important role in the events to come.

"Let's start from the beginning," Jocelyn said, turning to Father Thomas whose hand remained enclosed in Clary's. "Father, what happened…at the end?"

"I am not sure," he answered. "I was feeling the euphoria that always encompasses one of my visions. I could hear the Angel's voice echoing in my head and could feel his presence in my veins. But then, it changed." Father Thomas's face contorted to one being tortured. Clary's stomach did a nervous flip as the priest continued. "I felt…terrified, hurt, conflicted. And then…I saw images. Horrible images of death and destruction. I could hear his evil laugh in my head and could feel his victorious gloat. He showed me horrible things: children dying, women being raped, men being tortured all while he laughed at my torment. It was hell, literally. Then everything went dark and I awoke in a panic."

"Do you remember what you said?" Jace asked sternly, a little more bite in his voice then he intended; his anger was getting the better of him.

"What I said?" Father Thomas asked, confused

"You said that someone was after Clary. That he wanted her so he could populate a new generation. And…that he would succeed." Jocelyn answered reluctantly, as if by her repeating it out load, she would solidify it as truth.

"I am confused," Father Thomas answered, shaking his head back and forth. "I don't understand. I don't remember any of it. I usually remember all my visions."

"Tell us more about this demon," Clary asked reassuringly. "Maybe we can piece it together if we knew more about him."

"He is very powerful, enough to drive the Angels from my presence. He has not been seen in this realm for millennia." Father Thomas paused, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to organize his thoughts.

"It was during the Time of the Angels, when humanity was in its infancy and the Angels walked the Earth. They lived in accordance with humans, both offering and taking from each other in peaceful harmony," Father Thomas explained. He rose from his seat and turned to the wooden box that housed his ceremonial herbs. He returned quickly, holding an ancient-looking scroll in his hand. The other joined his side to peer over his shoulder. Painstakingly slow, the priest unraveled the scroll on the small table before him that served as an alter during his rituals.

"The Angels offered protection from evil, while the humans offered entertainment and worship. It was a mutual relationship," he began again, motioning to a small depiction of a golden angel next to a small plain human male.

"But humanity became arrogant, stubborn and poisoned by greed." He moved his finger to a large tower whose top reached the skies above.

"I am sure you have heard of the Tower of Babel. The bible describes it as a large tower whose top was designed to reach the heavens. Man made it in order to make a name for themselves; not for worship or in communion with Heaven, but in spite. It broke the covenant with Heaven and the Angels retreated back to the skies. But not before they destroyed the Tower in their vengeance."

"I don't understand," Simon began. "I thought God was the one who struck the Tower down, then cursed the people so they were speaking in different languages."

"Who do you think gave the order for the Angel's destruction?" the priest asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"But, why would they be so upset about a Tower?" Clary asked, confused.

"It was a representation of pride. It was built in blatant disregard for Heaven and as a proclamation of independence from the Angels." Father Thomas answered, frowning at the ground. "It marked the age of Self-Awareness, something that may sound positive to you, but in the end, began the invasion of evil."

"What does this have to do with the demon, Father?" Jocelyn asked.

"He was the one whispering in the humans ears, making them second guess the Angels intentions. He would fill them with pride, lust, greed. He was the proprietor, the instigator. And he did it all without the Angels knowing."

"How did they not know he was here, in our realm?" Isabelle asked.

"He is a liar; the original one, the creator of lies. He is also a poser, a shape shifter. He tricked them by posing himself as an Angel." Father Thomas pointed to a picture of a gorgeous man with a heavenly body; the exact representation of what an Earthbound Angel would look like.

Father Thomas explained, "He ensnared the humans of Babylon with his wicked ways, whispering half-truths and contorted promises."

"Why does that sound familiar?" Clary muttered.

"Because he is the father of the faeries. They are not the children of Angels and Demons, as many have believed. They are the children of The Demon, and the countless Babylonian women he seduced. He has passed on his deceptive traits to them." Father Thomas answered, sharing a glance with Jocelyn.

"He's what?" Jace exclaimed, on his feet in anger. "That's why she's been so invested in us. That's why she can't let me go. That's why she's tried to interfere," he continued to mumble uncontrollably, borderline incoherent.

"Jace, what are you talking about?" Clary asked.

"Her! That bitch! The Seelie Queen," he answered, exasperated. "She has been his tool all along!"

"Jace," Jocelyn began. "Don't make assumptions. This demon has been gone for many years. We don't know that she in league with him."

"She is," Jace shouted. The room became silent except for the small tinkling of Father Thomas's rosary beads.

"We need answers," Jocelyn spoke after several tense minutes, shaking her head in frustration. "We need to know what his intentions are." She turned to Father Thomas, who blanched under her stare.

"I'm sorry, my dear. I'm afraid that my visions cannot be trusted. I may already have given him too much information as it is. He could invade my mind again."

"I'll do it." Jace stood up and walked to the back of the room, towards the small wooden box. He began grabbing random herbs, not knowing what exactly he needed to perform a ritual to invoke the Angels. "I'm supposed to be this great visionary, right. I can do this," he mumbled as he tossed through the various vials.

"My son," Father Thomas stood, motioning for Jace to slow down. "If he invades you it would be a travesty. Please, don't do this," Father Thomas pleaded, but Jace ignored him and sat in front of the small table, knocking the ancient-looking scroll to the floor. He began mixing various herbs in the small clay bowel, muttering under his breath.

"Jace, I don't think…" Isabelle started.

"Iz, shut it. I can do this." Jace interrupted. He reached for the silver knife and sliced his palm once again, allowing the blood to coat the top of his concoction. He threw the entire bowel into the fire, not bothering to pour it out.

The flames turned purplish-pink once again and a calm, steady presence filled the room.

Jace closed his eyes, taking several calm breaths to steady himself. His eyes snapped open, vivid white orbs under his lids.

Father Thomas started first, "Was it Beelzebub who entered my mind?"

_Yes_

Jace's voice was an echo, not his own cadence. Clary gasped.

_But do not fear. He cannot enter my son's mind. _

"Ithuriel," Jocelyn muttered. The corners of Jace's mouth twitched into a smile. "Is he the one after Clary?" Jocelyn asked.

_No. And yes. Although he is not after her, it was his plan to begin with. It will take all of you, including Clarissa, to fight this evil. If one plan is thwarted, he will find another means to invade._

"Who is after her…" Simon began, but was cut off by Jace's echoed voice.

_You have a traitor among you. They plot against you. _

_Do not trust all you hear._

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The ritualistic fog broke instantly and Jace jumped to his feet pulling two blades from his back.

Boom. Boom. Crack.

"What is it?" Clary asks, pulling her blade from her belt sheath. Isabelle uncoiled her whip and Simon's fangs are barred.

"I don't know," Father Thomas replied, getting up from his spot and racing to a small out cove by the entrance. He touched on knot in the stone wall and a cabinet appeared behind a false part of stone. Several seraph blades adorned the back of the wall. Quickly, Father Thomas pulled two blades from the wall and tossed one to Jocelyn. She caught it steadily in her trained hand.

Boom. Crack. Crack.

"Mom?" Clary cried.

"We need to get out of here," Jocelyn states. "Thomas?"

_Click, click, click, click._

Sounds like little pebbled rain drops falling on the floor surrounded the catacombs. Isabelle looked questioningly at Clary, who shrugs in answer.

"The warning," Father Thomas gasps. "They triggered the warning system. Someone's here looking for us. We need to leave. Now!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**AN: Voting for MI awards ends on Halloween. The Mortal Archives site needs more members. The MI fandom is growing, which is totally awesome. Go join the site and get your latest fill on everything MI!**


	16. Chapter 15 Evasion

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

***Warning: Content Violent in nature. You've been warned***

Chapter 15 - Evasion

While Clary and the others were at St. Patrick's, the rest of the group had retreated into the Institute's library to ascertain what the next step should be based on the Silent Brother's recommendation to Maryse and Jocelyn. Unfortunately, not much planning had taken place so far, and the tension in the room was increasing steadily.

"I don't understand why we couldn't all go," Maia complained, folding her arms in front of her chest sulkily. She had been mauling over her argument for the past fifteen minutes.

"Oh for shit's-sake, get the pacifier out of your ass," Vixie snapped, pressing both hand on her temples as if to keep her head from exploding. She was tired of Maia whining about being left behind.

"We couldn't all go cause the 'lovers' all had to do some _revelatin'_ in private." She rolled her eyes as she processed Maia's reaction.

Maia pulled her brows together in confused contemplation.

"But Jocelyn was with them," she frowned, quirking her head to the side. "And weren't they going to see some sort of priest-dude? That'd kinda make fornicating a little awkward."

Magnus snickered from his perch atop the large mahogany desk, "A mom and a priest; wouldn't be the first time…"

"Eh, ehm," Maryse cleared her throat as Vixie gave an exasperated sigh.

"It's important that we stay here to monitor the Institute," Alec explained, dismissing Magnus's jest with a role of his eyes. "With all the attacks around the city lately, we can't afford to leave it unguarded. What if someone calls needing help?"

"Whatever," Maia sighed. "I just hate missing out on all the fun stuff," she added, examining her fingernails. Magnus glanced at her, disgusted; it appeared that she was digging raw steak out from under her fingernails. She began gnawing on one that had a stubborn piece of meat underneath it. Magnus pulled his nose up in disdain, fighting back nausea.

"Believe me," Maryse spoke knowingly. "Jace and Clary are not there for 'fun'." She paused before she could say more then she intended to.

"What is going on, mom," Alec asked, exasperated. "It seems you and Jocelyn know more than you are saying" Maryse looked at Alec, then at the rest of the group; all of their faces were fixed on her, expectant, except for Vixie. Her eyes were on the ground, a guilty look on her face. _She couldn't know, could she? _

"Mom?" Alec asked again, pulling her from her contemplation.

"They are going to see an oracle," Maryse answered, shaking off the uneasy feeling that Vixie knew more than she was comfortable with. "He used to be in high regard with the Clave."

"Ahhh, Saint Thomas," Magnus exclaimed, clapping his hands together and swinging his feet like a five year old. "How is the old bat? I haven't seen him for 150 years. I wonder if he remembers that time in Paris..."

"Who is Saint Thomas?" Maia asked, cutting off Magnus's reminiscence.

"He is a great oracle that has had prophetic visions for many years. One in particular is specifically important to recent events. Both Jocelyn and I thought it was time for Clary and Jace to speak to him in person. Once they return to the Institute, we will all be able to find the answers we need. I am sure that Clary and Jace will want to share all that they learn, but be patient; whatever Saint Thomas has to say to them, will not be comfortable for them to hear," Maryse finished, a sad expression on her face.

She had known about the prophecy of the Angel Children; it had been a legend among Shadowhunters for many years when she was a child. However, the legend became taboo once Valentine's minions had discredited Saint Thomas's visions once he spoke of unity with the Downworlders. The younger generations didn't know about the previous prophecies. She only recently discovered that the boy featured in the story was her son, Jace.

Father Thomas had kept in touch with Jocelyn, monitoring Clary's progression from afar. When the truth of Jace's parentage was discovered, Jocelyn thought that it was best for the Lightwoods to meet the oracle to discuss what his future may hold. It was a hard day, one that changed their lives forever.

Maryse, Jocelyn, Robert and Luke had decided to pull together in order to support their children through the hard times to come. They had all discussed when the appropriate time would be to talk to Clary and Jace about the prophecy. The consensus was that the appropriate time would reveal itself. The topic was broached once again when the attacks around the city increased and Clary had been targeted as their captive. All four adults agreed that once the men returned from Idris, they would reveal the prophecy together, supporting one another threw the unknown future of their children. However, Simon's devolution back to the Veritas Lamina had changed that plan.

"Well, if we're not going to talk about why you are being so enigmatic, can we at least talk about what the Silent Brothers said?" Alec asked, a little annoyed at being left in the dark. He felt that, being the eldest and subsequent leader of the team, he should be informed of all relative intelligence and was becoming frustrated that that wasn't the case. Maryse took a deep breath, preparing herself for the uncomfortable conversation to come.

"It seems they were concerned about our group efforts," Maryse explained. "They are anxious for the tutor to arrive from Idris. They want him to be the team leader, much like Hodge was." Alec stood from his seat at the desk, ready to protest his apparent demotion, but Maryse stopped him quickly.

"You and Jace will be leading in the field," she explained quickly. "The tutor is only to look at the group from the outside with an objective, scrutinous eye."

"I don't understand why you, Jocelyn or Dad couldn't do that. Why bring someone we don't know in?" Alec asked in apparent frustration.

"Jocelyn and I will be representing the team from a political side: handling diplomacy between us and varying Downworlder clans," Maryse explained. "Robert will be representing the New York Institute in Idris as needed. The tutor will be able to evaluate what our strong and weak points and direct our training accordingly. He will be instrument in coordinating hunting efforts as well as playing to our strengths."

Vixie scoffed at that, rolling her eyes in consternation. She plainly felt that her talents didn't need evaluating, especially by the likes of some unknown, arrogant Shadowhunter. Maryse noticed her mildly subtle rebuttal.

"And I will also like to mention that when Luke returns in the next couple of days, he will help train the Downworlders," Maryse turned to Vixie. "The Silent Brothers feel that some major bridges need to be mended between this group, and Luke has shown incredible skill in that regard," Maryse added tersely.

"Although, I am sure that he will need to make some attitude adjustments as well," she sneered, looking directly at Vixie's stubborn, conceded expression.

Vixie's gave her a half-crooked smile in return, raising one perfectly thin eyebrow in challenge. Maryse returned her stare; if it were possible, she would be burning holes through Vixie's flawlessly carved features. Maryse defined the saying 'if looks could kill'; her children discovered that truth a very long time ago, as did her husband. But Vixie took her death stare with a grain of salt, silently chuckling at the morbidly humorous situation before her; does she retreat under Maryse's stern gaze, thereby giving the Shadowhunter an upper hand but saving yet another issue for Luke to handle when he gets home? Or does she ride this staring contest out by matching Maryse blow for blow, hate-filled gaze for hate-filled gaze? Of course, she chose the latter; her mouth curled into a challenging smirk.

Both women were locked in ice cold stares that could cause an Ice Age. Magnus was sitting on the edge of his seat, watching the two women with rapt attention, chanting 'Cat Fight, Cat Fight, Cat Fight' under his breath. Maia exchanging worried looks between the two of them, her head snapping back and forth like she was watching the finals at Wimbledon. Alec had his head in his hand, peaking out at them every second or so through his fingers, hoping that the staring contest would end quickly; he really didn't want to get into the middle of his mother, the one woman who could instill the fear of God into him, and Vixie, the ultimate sadistic bitch who had once trapped his brother in her underground lair. Reluctantly, he slowly stepped onto the front lines.

"Mom. Stop," he began, putting one hand on Maryse's shoulder in a halfhearted restraint.

Vixie's smile widened and her eyebrow lifted vindictively.

"You might want to listen to your boy," she smirked. "I'd hate to embarrass you in front of him."

That did it.

Quicker than lightening, Maryse had whipped out a seraph blade from beneath her wrap dress and held the edge to Vixie's throat.

Vixie stood still, shocked. She was completely taken aback by Maryse's forceful and efficient speed.

"Mom," Alec sighed, exasperated.

"You forget who you speak to," Maryse spat. "Let me remind you. I am _not_ someone you can intimidate or manipulate. And it will be good for you to remember that I can end you just this fast." Maryse seethed; her chest heaving with her furious breaths. Vixie's face had melted from shock to nonchalance; her momentary astonishment worn off.

The uneasy stand-off was broken by a small pop near the fireplace; Maryse's head snapped towards the sound in alarm. She lowered her blade from Vixie's throat and rounded the large desk towards the fireplace, Alec quick at her heels. She bent down to the hearth and picked up a small scroll of paper that was softly singed on the edges. She unraveled it carefully and began reading the slanted scrawl swiftly. She paused, a look of terror flashed onto her face.

"Mom, what it is?" Alec asked.

"It's St. Patrick's," Maryse gasped. " The others are under attack."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Father Thomas," Clary panted as she ran behind him through the dark tunnels of the catacombs under St. Patrick's Cathedral. "What...was...that noise?"

"It's the warning," Father Thomas explained, mysteriously non-winded as he ran at a break-neck pace. He was whizzing through the tunnels like he was twelve years old, instead of the senior citizen pushing two centuries in age. Clary watched him in awe, the hilt of his blade charging the way through the maze of stone.

"It was designed to warn of an attack on the Cathedral. It will also warn the Institute."

"Attack the Cathedral?" Isabelle asked, alarmed. "Why would anyone want to attack an old Catholic Church?" She exchanged a questioning look with Simon. He just shrugged, keeping pace by her side.

"Mass isn't that bad," Jace mumbled. Clary rolled her eyes at his faint attempt at humor. Father Thomas suddenly came to an abrupt halt, causing the others to stammer, practically slamming into him.

"Fath..." Isabelle began but he clamped an firm hand over her mouth to stop her.

"Shhhh," he warned sternly, then pointed above him suggestively. Everyone quieted, trying to hear any movement, any sound of danger.

"No. Please, no." A faint, frail sounding voice echoed through a small vent at the top of the stone ceiling.

"He's just a child. Take me! Use me!"

"But you will be more motivated to answer my questions if I tear his flesh from his bone right in front of your reluctant nose," a high-pitched, feminine voice replied. The tone was friendly but for the threat in the content of her words.

"You cannot possibly imagine the consequences that will fall upon you if you follow through with your threats, my dear," the priest spoke sternly, his voice shaking in rage and fear.

"You are hardly in a position to speak, ignorant slave of Heaven," the female voice spoke kindly. Father Argue screamed painfully after a resounding thwack echoed off the walls, as if someone had struck him down.

"Father Argue," a small voice moaned pleadingly.

"Don't worry Anthony," the old priest wailed in despair. "Our Heavenly Mother will be with us both" Then, reverently, he began to say the 'Hail Mary'.

"Hail Mary, full of Grace. The Lord is with thee."

"Ahhhh…" Anthony moaned.

"I will ask you one more time," the sweet voice crooned. "Where is the Oracle?" Anthony let out a shrill cry, the sound shooting through the walls of the catacomb, piercingly painful. Father Argue continued to pray, raising his voice to shout through the torment.

"Blessed art thou among women. And Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

Clary stifled a sob, tears streaming down her cheeks. The torture the poor boy was suffering was unimaginable. Jace pulled her tight into his side, searing rage on his face. He was staring up to the ceiling, trying to pierce holes into the solid stone with his malice gaze. It was heart wrenchingly painful for him to remain still; his whole body was prepared to fight and all he wanted in that moment was to rip Anthony's torturers to bits. The next couple of minutes changed his priorities completely.

"We know she is here with him," the smooth voice sneered. " We know that she is scarcely protected. And you will tell us where they are." Anthony's screaming intensified, a horrible ripping sound adding to his screams.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God…" the priest sobbed. His prayers started becoming hard to understand as the horrible, painful sobs poured from Anthony's chest. The priest began repeating ' Hail Mary' over and over again as the boys wails started to become less forceful. Anthony started gasping instead of full on crying. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a small shriek. Gurgling sounds emanated through the small vent, as if Anthony were unable to breath any longer, perhaps drowning in his own blood. Then, eerily, the sound stopped completely. Dead silence echoed through the small space of the catacombs, and Clary couldn't contain the tears that began falling.

Father Thomas's face tensed, the hand around his sword tightened. He pulled back Jace in order to retreat back down the catacombs so that they couldn't be overheard and discovered.

"I'm not sure how we will be able to get out without them noticing," he whispered.

"Is there no other way out?" Jocelyn all but mouthed back.

"I think they are warlocks," Father Thomas contemplated. "It'll be hard to get past them undetected."

"Then we fight our way out," Jace hissed.

"No," Jocelyn whispered. "It's too dangerous. If we had Magnus, maybe. But we can't fight against magic."

"If Father Argue was able to sound the warning, then the Institute has been warned," Father Thomas explained hurriedly. "We should be expecting your friends momentarily."

Suddenly, there was a huge crash and a lot of shouting.

"Speak of the devil," Simon sighed. He turned to Isabelle and whispered something into her ear, which made her smile and blush furiously.

"Follow me," Father Thomas said, turning and sprinting toward the end of a long dark tunnel. It took them several minutes at a fast pace to reach the end of the hall. The priest paused at what looked like a dead end. He began running his hand along the stone, as if he was searching for a hidden notch. He spoke something quietly in a language that Clary didn't recognize, as the stone began to retreat back within itself, creating a small doorway. The priest hurried through it, glancing from side to side as if to check for hidden dangers.

"Through this hallway and up those stone steps, we will exit through the foyer of the church," Father Thomas panted as he ran. "Hopefully, we will have the element of surprise."

BOOM.

A crashing sound shook the stone walls and small pebbles fell from the ceiling.

"The fight has started," Jace yelled over the chaos. "Clary, you stay by my side. Got it?" Clary nodded her head in agreement. She looked back at Simon, whose arm was in Isabelle's as she traced the Alliance ruin into her skin. As it took affect, Isabelle's eyes turned the same electric blue as Simon's, and her skin had a radiant glow to it as well. Simon met Clary's eyes and they exchanged a small uneasy smile. Clary turned toward the stone doorway as her mother called her name.

"Clary," Jocelyn stammered. "I love you. Stay close to Jace and no matter what, stay safe. Do you understand me?"

"Y-y-yes," Clary sobbed. She knew what that meant: if it came down to it, her mother would sacrifice herself to keep Clary safe. She internally cringed at the thought and grasped Jace's hand tightly. He returned the pressure and leaned down to her ear.

"Don't worry, Clary. We'll get out of here in one piece."

BOOM.

The walls seemed to be shedding, there was so much rubble around them. Father Thomas took a deep breath and turned to the small group.

"Ready?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**AN: Thanks for all your great reviews. I really means a lot to me that so many people are truly enjoying this story. **

**-I've added a list of story recs on my profile. But I wanted to share one that has really taken my interest, and it an MI fic, which I think is totally awesome. I want to recommend a TMI fanfic that I think is really good. Its called Forgotten Angels by ToesNtheWater. Its all human and really well written. ENJOY!**

**-More bonus material has been added to my profile. If you have questions, ask them over at the SOTF thread. (link on profile)**


	17. Chapter 16 The Geryons

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Yes, I know the cliffys are killing everyone! I will try to keep them to a minimum from now on. It's just so fun to keep you all hanging. *insert evil laugh here***

**My beta is MIA, so go easy on me. This has not been reviewed, but I needed to get it out cause I was getting a lot of PM's wanting the next chap!**

***Warning: content is violent in nature. You've been warned***

Chapter 16 - The Geryons

"Hurry!" Maryse shouted over her shoulder as she raced to St. Patrick's cathedral from the subway station, Magnus and Vixie hot on her heels. Maia was limping, her weight supported by Alec as they tried to keep up.

As soon as they'd stepped off the front steps of the Institute, their small rescue party had been ambushed by a pack of Razeor demons. They'd managed to come out of the short scrimmage victorious, but not without some minor injuries; Maia had taken the brunt of the attack since she was the first to cross the invisible line of safety as she left the hallowed ground the Institute provided. The large, alligator-like jaw of a Razeor had clamped down on Maia's leg, rendering her useless for the remainder of the battle. But between Maryse, Alec and Vixie, the three of them had killed the whole lot of Razeors within minutes. Magnus had quickly opened a portal that transported them from the scene, arriving within a mile of the Cathedral.

Alec was struggling to keep up with his mom and the others while trying to support Maia. He paused briefly, panting and sweating at his efforts to help her. He became frustrated at their slow pace and gently helped Maia to the ground. He pulled out his stele and hurriedly traced the Alliance rune on Maia's forearm.

"What are you…" she began to argue, knowing that Alec's usual fighting partner was Magnus.

"I need your werewolf strength," he explained rapidly. As soon as he could feel the effects of the rune take place, he picked up Maia effortlessly and carried her down the street.

"How fast can you heal?" he asked as he ran, cars and unsuspecting people whizzing by him in his speed; Maryse and Alec had used runes that produce glamours before they'd left for the Cathedral, effectively hiding them from the mundanes.

"It shouldn't be too much longer now," Maia grimaced, her face covered in a light sheen of sweat. The jarring from Alec's sprint was making the pain excruciating.

"I can feel it starting to knit together." She glanced down at her right thigh: muscles, sinew and vessels torn to shreds, exposing the splintered bone beneath.

"Do you think they were waiting for us?" Maia asked through gritted teeth, remembering the surprise attack outside the Institute.

"Most definitely," Alec answered, his brow furrowed in trepidation.

"Why?" Maia asked, perplexed. No one knew they were leaving the Institute, except themselves and whoever sent the distress call at St. Patrick's. It hadn't taken them very long to prepare once the call for help came in; only long enough for Alec and Maryse to change into Shadowhunter gear, while the others raided the Weapons Room.

"We've all come and gone countless times from the Institute without being attacked; why should this time be any different?" she asked as a sense of unease clenched her stomach.

"They were probably sent as a diversion," Alec contemplated as he continued running down the busy New York street. "Maybe to slow us down, which is most likely. There definitely wasn't enough Razeors to be any kind of real threat to us."

"Sent?" Maia questioned, alarmed.

"That's what I'm thinking," he answered. "Look at the pattern of our recent attacks: Clary and Simon were broad-sided in an alley way outside of Taki's, the lot of them were ambushed on the train, and then what happened in the graveyard…" Alec paused dramatically. "They were all after one thing; it seems there is definitely a mastermind behind this all. I'm only afraid that if we don't get to Jace and the others quickly, then this mysterious enemy will obtain his final goal."

"Clary?" Maia asked, the urgency of the situation boiling to the surface, causing her heart rate to quicken. Alec nodded, confirming Maia's fears. Suddenly, Alec wasn't running fast enough to her, even though the buildings and cars were blurs beside them due to his speed. An overwhelming sense of urgency enveloped her and she couldn't get there fast enough; she needed to help fight for Clary's sake.

Alec decelerated as they came to a large building on the corner of Madison and 50th street, across the street from St. Patrick's. He saw his mother, Vixie and Magnus crouched behind a large trash bin, looking in the direction of the Cathedral. Maryse noticed their arrival and silently gestured from them to join her.

Alec crept slowly towards their position, Maia quiet in his arms. Maryse pointed towards the Cathedral through the small slit between the trash bin and the wall of the adjacent building.

In front of the steps of St. Patrick's stood a horde of Geryon demons: centaur-type creatures with vibrant red eyes and a mouth similar to that of a goat. They were donned with ironclad armor, toting tall shields and blazing red swords. Their broad, pig-like snouts were drenched with a clear liquid and their huge hands were trimmed with sharp talons for claws.

Unlike the average, everyday demons, whose instincts were to simply destroy all they came in contact with, Geyrons were warriors: specifically trained for combat. They excelled at it, thrived for it. It was what they were bred for, and usually were controlled my vicious War Lords.

Their kind had not been seen in Earth's realm for decades; they'd been assumed extinct by centuries of fighting with Shadowhunters, or thought to have perhaps retreated to their home realm. The legends of the Geryon Wars were still well known among modern-day Shadowhunters and Downworlders; their kind were known to have caused immense devastation among the early settlements of humanity, controlled and driven by power hungry tyrants. Most of the epic battles depicted in the Bible were those of the Geryons.

The small herd of demons stood outside the barrier of the Cathedral, along the hallowed ground perimeter. Their beady red eyes canvassed the streets, obviously prepared for a challenge; it appeared they were expecting the small rescue party. But Maryse and the others hadn't been seen as of yet; the element of surprise their only advantage, for they were outnumbered three to one.

"Damn," Alec whispered. Maryse nodded in agreement.

"I thought they were extinct," he added under his breath.

"Apparently they've been resurrected," Vixie quipped with a blasé attitude compared to the current conditions. She had her back to the wall of the building, hiding her from the demons line of site while she began pulling her deluge of weapons from her hidden compartments throughout her garments. She had several sharp, golden flat discs, large curved swords and a small crossbow that propelled long, spike-tipped rods as fast as a gun shoots bullets.

Maryse began mumbling silently, eyes widened as she scanned the area from the small crack between the trash bin and the wall. She was in a crouched position, calculating their odds and weighing options for a battle plan rapidly in her mind. She was a born warrior and the strategic preparation came to her naturally.

Alec set Maia down along the side of the wall, next to Vixie. He unhooked his archery from his back, counting the arrows nestled into their holster. He had two Ethereal blades strapped to his back, four along each calf nestled into belted sheaths and countless small knifes adorned around his belt. He didn't know how armed Jace and the others were, so he carried as many weapons as he could, assuming the worst case scenario. He pulled both blades from his back and whispered their blessed names. The blades lit up, a faint electric blue, and placed them back into their sheaths.

Magnus was muttering under his breath some ancient language, eyes closed and brow furrowed. He was attempting to enter the mind of someone inside the cathedral using magic from the Book of White: the ancient rare book of magic Clary had rescued from the Wayland Manor specifically at Magnus's request. Since that time, he had discovered countless uncharted levels of magic, including the spell he was using. He was hoping by entering the mind of someone inside ground zero, he could help determine and formulate a strategic plan.

He searched for the most distraught, fearful person, for it was easier to enter the minds of the distracted. He landed into the consciousness of a tall, heavy-setted man in excruciating pain. He canvassed the area through the eyes of the poor, unfortunate man, taking in all he could.

"There are Warlocks and Forsaken inside," Magnus muttered, eyes still closed in concentration. "They have killed a young boy and are currently torturing an old priest for information. It's not Saint Thomas; I don't see him inside."

"Warlocks?" Vixie asked, stunned. "Why are _your_ Downworlders helping the other side, Magnus?"

"I don't know," Magnus spat, still concentrating on the scene before him.

"I don't know who they are," he lied, figuring it would be better it they didn't know who they were up against. They'd find out _she _was inside soon enough.

"What else do you see?" Alec asked hurriedly.

"I see two warlocks and a witch. She has the old priest by the throat. The Forsaken are at the alter, about five of them. They're tearing the place apart; it looks like they are searching for something."

"Can you see the others?" Maryse asked quickly. Several minutes went by as Magnus concentrated, his eyes moving back and forth rapidly under his eyelids as he searched. He lifted his consciousness from the old priest, searching for someone more familiar. The sensation was like as if he was inside or a part of a delicate bubble, floating helplessly along a gentle breeze, with no definitive direction or drive.

He concentrated harder, filling himself with the essence of Jace; he figured he'd be the easiest to find, due to the dire circumstances and Clary's safety being in jeopardy. Suddenly, as if the bubble had been caught into a hurricane-like wind, Magnus felt his consciousness being forced into Jace's mind.

"They're there," he answered abruptly. "Underneath several layers of granite stone deep below the Cathedral. They are looking for an escape. Saint Thomas is with them, but their exit is in the foyer. They will be exposed, but are preparing to fight."

"We need to get inside," Alec quipped, glancing toward the Cathedral doors.

"Maia?" Maryse questioned quickly, asking about Maia's injury and fighting ability in one short statement. The rapidly deteriorating scenario only had room for brevity and bluntness.

"It's almost done," Maia grunted, her lips pursed as she watched her layers of muscle stretch over her freshly healed bone, approximating the torn edges of her wound. Maryse began drilling out orders like a commander on the front lines of a war zone.

"Magnus, stay with Maia. See if you can heal her quicker." Magnus pulled himself from Jace's consciousness, the feeling like he was being sucked up through a vortex back into his own mind. Once he reestablished his equilibrium, he knelt next to Maia as blue sparks began flying from his fingertips.

"Alec, at my signal use your arrows to draw the Geryons from the Cathedral doors to your position, a diversion. Maia and Magnus will be there to back you up once she's healed." They nodded in confirmation.

"The legends of the Geryon battles state their weakness is below their necks, where their jugular artery sits. Sever it and the oxygen supply to their brain stops," she motioned towards her neck, illustrating the approximated target point for the Geryon's weakness.

"Their armor has long collars on it that protects their necks, so an aerial position would be ideal. Vixie, position yourself above one of the buildings. When the demons charge Alec, take them out starting from the back." Vixie nodded in understanding as she searched the immediate area for a proper sniper's perch, but was interrupted abruptly.

"Give me your arm," Maryse ordered, holding out her hand to Vixie, expectantly. But before the faerie could react, Maryse reached out and grabbed her arm forcefully, causing Vixie to hiss in malcontent.

Maryse ignored her reaction and began to draw the Alliance rune on Vixie's inner wrist, the familiar burning smell hung in the air; the effect was immediate and both women reveled in the increased sense of power.

"Mom, what are you going to do?" Alec asked as he readied his weaponry.

"Once you both have incapacitated the most demons you can, I will charge the Cathedral." Alec froze in his actions, then turned quickly to his mother and began to protest. Maryse cut him off quickly.

"Focus," she spoke sternly, holding both hands up to stop any argument from him. "Stay fast. Stay accurate. Join me inside as soon as the Geryons are destroyed. We need to get inside as soon as possible and if you are the diversion, we can balance out their advantage." Alec was worried about her. She knew that. But angst was a distraction they didn't have time for. She hoped her words cut through her son's

anxiety.

Alec nodded in acceptance, trying to fight back the sense of doom in the pit of his stomach. So much was at stake: the lives of all he cared for. He looked at his mother, at the strong Shadowhunter she was and beamed internally with pride. She stood confident and sure, her eyes held nothing but determination. He would fight for her, he would push down his anxiety at the situation, at the danger to those he loved and fight like hell for them all.

"Rendezvous point is this corner. Secondary, the Institute. Understood?" Grunts and stiff nods resounded in understanding.

"Good luck," Maryse said shortly, pulling a large katana sword from behind her back. She hurried across the street to the cathedral, using a car passing by as cover.

Vixie slung her crossbow across her back, the golden rings tethered to her waist for easy accessibility. She eyed the wall beside her, deciding if it were amiable enough to climb. It was an older brick building, where the inlays had deteriorated, leaving small cracks and openings along its surface. To a mere human, it would be impossible to scale. But the Fey were unnaturally swift, agile and light. It would be no problem for her. She fixed the edges of her fingertips into the crevices and began to climb the three story building. Her movements were swift and precise, her grip never faltering from her miniscule hold.

In no time, she was positioned on top of the old building, giving her the optimal point of advantage over the herd of Geryons below. With her keen eyes, she could see the small opening at the top of their armor, leaving the demons completely vulnerable to her skill.

She searched to see if the other were in place and saw Maryse perched behind a large cluster of boxed hedges, along the right side of the cathedral; her position optimal for an ambush. Alec was behind the trash bin, preparing to draw the demons toward him. Magnus remained knelt before Maia in attempt to heel her quicker, but the poison from the Razeors mouth had slowed her recovery.

She prepared her crossbow and scanned the herd of Geryon, looking for an easy target and waiting for the signal to attack.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Your resist pointlessly, my dear priest," Katia hissed through her pointed teeth, her grasp tight around the old man's throat. "We will find them eventually; my men are more then efficient and it is only a matter of time."

The priest whimpered as her claws dug into his flesh. He'd heard of the infamous dark Priestess Katia many times; she alone was a topic of discussion at the Vatican council last month. Her tactics were brutal and her services for hire. The old priest fully realized in the moment she revealed her identity that he would surely die just as viciously and vehemently as young Anthony had. But even more devastating was the fact that he didn't think Father Thomas would escape the Cathedral alive. His vocation was dedicated to protecting the Prophet at all costs, and he feared that he was failing miserably.

He struggled futilely against the witch's sturdy hold at his throat; she was young, fiercely beautiful, and incredibly strong, fueled by dark magic and demonic powers. He gave up on his attempt to free himself and spat onto her face in resentment. There was a resounding _thwack_ as she cruelly slapped his face, shattering his jaw bone, sending a few teeth and a splatter of blood across the floor.

"I keep you alive only to watch you writhe as I peel the flesh from your beloved Saint Thomas," she spat, grabbing his shattered jaw as the old man winced at the sharp pain. She laughed manically, the sound ringing like morbid tinkling bells. Tears poured from the edges of Father Argue reddened eyes, only fueling Katia's enjoyment. She licked one of the fallen tears from the priest's cheek with a forked tongue and released her hold on him; the priest fell to his knees immediately, his legs too weak and trembling to hold him upright.

"Priestess," a large, burly man dressed in long, dark purple satin robes interrupted her entertainment. She turned toward him, her toying with Father Argue forgotten for the moment.

"I feel their presence. They are here, very close now."

"Good," the witch's grin widened, clapping her hands together excitedly like a five year old girl. "They've come to play our little game. Shall we make this more interesting?" she asked the large man beside her, who chuckled in malice.

"Merchante, my pet," she called to a thin, handsome man dressed similarly to the other. He approached her quickly, like a dog called by its master.

"Be a dear and set up a perimeter," she addressed the wizard like a fond lover as she stroked his cheek lovingly.

"Verculis," she called to larger man. "Send the Forsaken to the exits while I start with the old one," she said, gesturing her head in Father Argue's direction. They both smiled menacingly, eyeing Father Argue hungrily. Katia chuckled softly.

"Be patient, my precious ones," she said lovingly, placing her palms on both of their faces. "Your time will come; you both can share any spoils we find hiding with the Prophet." Father Argue grimaced at that, hoping that Father Thomas was alone in his concealment.

"I love you both so dearly," Katia continued, rubbing both men's faces as if they were her children.

Without warning, she leaned in and kissed both men simultaneously, three tongues battling and warring for dominance as their hands began groping each other's bodies. Katia's soft moans filled the air, an erotic duet with the passionate grunts of the men.

Father watched in unadulterated fascination, unable to pull his eyes away from the immorality. After several moments, Katia unleashed her men, leaving them to begin the tasks assigned to them with soft pats on each of their bulging crotches.

Katia turned to Father Argue, eyeing him suggestively. She started to approach him slowly, her movements like that of a panther: measured, smooth, and graceful. She was hypnotic, seductive almost in her demeanor. She slowly knelt in front of Father Argue, her eyes teeming with mock concern.

"My poor, sweet, brave priest," she crooned sweetly. "The tortures you shall suffer at my hand…" She reached her small, delicate hand to his head, running her black-painted fingernails through his hair.

"If only you would've told us where he was hiding earlier, I would've ended your suffering and killed you quickly. But now," she wiped a tear from the priest's eye, "I'll have to make you writhe." She almost sounded endearing, but for the malice behind her words. Father Argue shuttered involuntarily.

"I know you won't beg for your life," the witch smiled sweetly. "You're too proud, too grounded in your pathetic faith for that." She chuckled mirthlessly, shaking her head in incredulity. Her eyes sharpened suddenly, becoming almost dagger-like.

"But let me share something with you," she grabbed his face roughly and turned his head sharply, forcing him to look upon the alter.

"Look at what my Forsaken have done to your temple, to the place where you worship your pathetic god," she laughed nastily. The alter was in utter disarray, demonic symbols scratched upon the walls and the holy statues were desecrated.

"But your god, I'm afraid, doesn't exist," she stated bluntly, letting go of her forceful hold to gently wipe away his tears with both of her hands.

"Where is his wrath? Where is his vengeance? Where is his mercy?" she questioned, her voice cracking slightly with the last. She trailed her hands from the priest's face, down to his chest.

"You have sacrificed much for something so fleeting." She finished her exploring with her hand by grazing the priest's genitals through his robes generously. The priest remained flaccid under her hand. "What a shame…" she crooned softly, a flint of lust in her eyes. Father Argue cringed reflectively. She snapped suddenly at that, turning into a mean, ferocious dog in turn.

"But, he doesn't exist, you poor devoted fool," she snapped. "Why else would he've abandoned you, my dear sweet priest?" she crooned like a caring mother. "Your service was for naught, and now you will die as pathetically and pointlessly as you have spent your life." She stared dead into his eyes, completely blank and void of all emotion. The priest felt tremendous pity for the young woman; she must have lost her way long ago, overran by the demon's fickle promises of power, lust and greed.

"I'm sorry, my child," the priest choked through blood and pain. "For all that you've suffered." He began to choke suddenly on the blood trailing down the back of his throat, spitting a large clot onto the marble floor. He steadied himself, fighting back the nausea and dizziness brewing inside him, and began again.

"I'm sorry that you've been so afraid for so long," he looked into her eyes, trying to reveal the tremendous amount of love he had for his God through to her. _Perhaps she never recognized His tremendous love for her?_

"Be content in the knowledge that my God has not left you…or me," the priest reassured the witch. "He is here now. No matter if the devils have forked your tongue. And even if you take my life," the priest's voice cracked, "however forcefully you wish, my soul will be eternally His."

Katia eyed the priest carefully for several moments, probably determining how she should begin his slow painful death, rather then evaluating the meaning behind his words.

The priest watched her carefully, looking deep into her eyes for any sign of mercy, of remorse. He thought, for a split second, that he saw a flicker of empathy, but it quickly disappeared behind her cold lavender eyes.

Quicker then a cat, she sprung at him, slamming his head harshly onto the marble floor with the force of a jackhammer. Dark, thick blood oozed from the priest's head at the impact point and the priest moved no more.

Katia stood above his body, watching the blood spread across the floor in a macabre trance. _One more_, she thought idly as she watched the light leave the priest's eyes. She felt the numbing sensation that followed murder encompass her as she fell further into the dark abyss within herself.

"Priestess," Verculis called, hurrying to her side. "The Beasts are positioned according to your instructions and are awaiting your orders." The Forsaken were ready at all exits, teeming and stirring on the brink of a fight. Each large, mutilated man was armed with thick spiked-wooden clubs. Katia kept her Forsaken well prepared for battle.

"Very well," Katia answered, taking one last look at the broken and bleeding body at her feet.

"Ready the circle," she said blankly. "Let's make short work of this. I want to go home."

"As you wish, my priestess." He turned toward the center of the large room, halfway between the alter and the foyer. He knelt down quickly, pulling a large piece of charcoal from within his robe. With precise movements, he began to draw a large Pentagram upon the floor, encompassing the entire diameter of the isle in blasphemy. He began muttering in tongues, the whites of his eyes all that could be seen behind the slitted eyelids.

The lines of the Pentagram began to glow, turning a deep shade of pink as it became hot like fire. The three Children of Lilith took points around the circle, arms held wide as they began to chant in unison. The atmosphere started to become thicker, palpable almost as their chanting increased. The floor began to tremble, a slight hum in the air.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jace peaked out the hidden door in the darkest corner of the Cathedral's foyer to ascertain the situation. He saw two mutilated, oversized men standing in front of the large wooden doors that guarded their closest escape.

"Forsaken," he swore under his breath like it was a dirty word.

"How many?" Simon asked just as quietly; his hearing acute enough to make out Jace's near silent exasperation. Jace held up two fingers, gesturing the amount of Forsaken while keeping his eyes on his enemy.

A quick plan formulated in his head as he scoped the immediate area. He turned to Simon, conversing silently, pointing to himself first, then to Simon; between the two of them, they would be able to take both men out quickly and silently enough that the others could possibly escape unnoticed. Simon nodded in understanding.

Jace opened the door a little more in order for him to pass completely into the foyer; Simon followed behind him, the Forsaken unaware.

Jace's blade shone a faint blue as he approached the two sadistic giants standing guard before the doors. He knew he needed to get Clary out of the Cathedral at all costs and was determined to do whatever it took to make that happen.

Simon positioned himself against the far wall, just outside the hidden door that hid his companions. Jocelyn stood on the other side of it, listening intently for the demise of the Forsaken guards, signaling their chance at escape.

Simultaneously, Jace swung his blade, lightly and swiftly, over his head, while Simon used the far wall for leverage, pushing off of it like a flying squirrel, landing on top of one of the giant men's shoulders gracefully. With sure, steady movements, Jace decapitated one of the Forbidden, while Simon's raw strength allowed him to break the other's neck, practically severing his head in turn. The bodies fell to the floor with muffled thuds as Simon landed on his feet lightly.

Jocelyn heard their fall and gestured for the others to follow her out into the foyer. Silently, they crept to the double, arched wooden doors of the Cathedral.

Simon approached the doors quietly, trying the old, latched handle. As his hand approached it, there were pink sparks that flew from the point of contact, almost like there was an invisible force-field over the door, keeping Simon from gripping the handle.

"Shit," he murmured exasperatedly.

"_Arrrgh_!!!" A horrifying, garbled cry echoed from within the chapel.

They had been seen.

Three more Forsaken were racing to their position at full pace, heaving large, spiked clubs in their oversized hands.

Jace ran over to Simon quickly. Instead of trying the handle, he lifted one booted foot and tried to force the doors open with a sure kick to the middle.

The force-field was thick and impenetrable.

As soon as Jace's foot found contact against the field, he was launched violently across the foyer, slamming into the fall wall with enough force to shatter his spine and pelvic bone. He lay motionless, skin torn and bleeding in several areas. Clary gasped and ran to his side, her stele ready in her hand.

"Come, come….my delicious prey!" a wickedly sweet voice called from within the chapel. She began laughing manically, causing goose flesh to spread upside the backs of the trapped.

"Katia…" St. Thomas mumbled, a look of utter terror on his face.

"She couldn't…" Jocelyn began, but was quickly interrupted by the Forsaken, crashing into the foyer like a herd of elephants.

Simon was on top of one like a flash of lightening, his strong hands at the beast's throat as his sharp fangs plunged into the head as smoothly as if it was a ripened melon instead of a skull. Blood poured from its head, trickling down onto the floor. Despite the heavy wound, the Forsaken continued to thrash widely, swinging his club aimlessly about. Isabelle lunged at him quickly, swinging her golden whip around his legs, ensnaring them together. With a steady pull, she forced him to the ground, where Simon finished the job he started.

Jocelyn attacked another charging Forsaken, slicing his outstretched arm as he approached. She spun quickly, before his severed arm had hit the floor, and cut him down by the ankles. He fell with a resounding thud, like a tree chopped at it base. Once the large beast was on the floor, Jocelyn plunged her seraph blade deep into his chest; a fountain of blackened red blood gushed from the chest wounds, coating the ground below in a thick layer of sticky foulness.

Father Thomas was quick and sure on his feet, lunging quickly from the third and final Forsaken's attacks. He'd managed to pin the Giant along the far wall, his blade penetrating through its right arm, trapping him there. The large, foul man tried with all its strength to free himself from it confinements, but there was no freedom without amputation. The beast pulled and pulled as Father Thomas pulled another glowing blade from underneath his brown robes. He held it in front of his face, closing his eyes in reverence.

"Beatus vestri irretitus amimus," he whispered softly as the blade shun slightly brighter, illuminating his face subtly. "Deus exspectata vos in suus lux lucis."

Quickly, Father Thomas's eyes sprang open . He whipped the glowing blade high above his head, severing the beast's head from the neck. The body fell to the ground surely, the arm remained pinned to the wall.

"Jace!" Isabelle called, running to his broken and bleeding body against the wall. Clary had her stele in her hand, tracing several Healing Runes throughout his body, but as soon as she placed them, they'd disappear completely. Clary growled, frustrated.

"I can't place them!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. "No matter how many I draw on him, they disappear!" Clary was on the verge of panic as she watched Jace bleed to death helplessly. Isabelle knelt by her side, reaching out to stop Clary's trembling hands as she frantically attempted to place rune after rune upon Jace's skin.

Jocelyn rushed to Clary, trying to hush her with words of encouragement. But Jace's breathing was becoming labored and Clary knew they didn't have much time left to heal him.

"Clary…" Jace grunted, his eyes still closed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**AN: *Ducks behind hands***

**Yes, I know…another cliffy. Good news is I have the next chapter written and it should be posted within the next couple of days. **

**I love how you guys react to this story. I know there is a lot of action right now, but for those who like the fluff….It's coming, I promise.**

**PS. There will be a death of a major character in the next chapter. Hints and questions can be answered on the thread for this story (see profile). **

**Review**** my lovelies…and I will whip out my magic crystal ball and tell you all who will survive and who will…not.**


	18. Chapter 17 The Book of White

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

***Warning: Content is violent in nature. You've been warned***

Chapter 17 - The Book of White

"Mag?" Alec questioned, the panic in his voice growing steadily as a horde of demons charged their position in front of the large wooden doors of the Cathedral. Magnus was hovering an inch above the ground, legs folded and eyes shut in concentration while muttering under his breath in attempt to break the barrier spell around the heavy wooden doors.

Maryse was leaning on Maia, a large flesh wound dripping blood on her right arm. Vixie was panting, several cuts along her jaw line and neck, but otherwise unharmed. Alec was down to his last two seraph blades.

Nothing had gone to plan. And unfortunately, the circumstances outside the Cathedral had become dire indeed.

Their planned diversion by Alec was met with a surprise ambush. The Geryons awaiting them was a mere farce, a cover for some greater threat. They'd been caught in a trap with no means of escape.

The plan started off without a hitch; Magnus healed Maia quickly from the Razeor attack outside the Institute, readying her for battle. Alec prepared his arsenal of weapons, planning on how we was to draw the group of Geryons away from the Cathedral. Vixie stood perched upon the rooftop of the adjacent building, her position ideal for picking the demons off one by one. And Maryse was hidden along the northern side of the building, awaiting a chance to enter the Cathedral once the Geryons were distracted.

Everyone was in position, and even though they were outnumbered, their plan was precise and well thought-out.

However, fate turned on them quickly.

"You ready?" Alec turned and asked Magnus as he was finishing up with Maia's injured leg.

"Good as new," Maia said excitedly, jumping to her feel agilely. She tested the resiliency of her leg, jumping a couple feet into the air and landing on one foot. She did a couple back flips, landing only on her recently healed leg. When she was satisfied that it was back to its original strength, she crouched low to the ground and began to transform into a partial wolf form, growling deep within her chest.

"Mag?" Alec questioned. Magnus was rolling his head from side to side, eyes closed. He was trying to assess his inner power, see if it was diminished at all from the energy it took to heel Maia and create a portal earlier in order to escape Institute.

That time in the graveyard, when he used one spell from the Book of White to obliterate those demons attacking Alec, he'd found himself completely drained of energy, rendering him helpless for a crucial amount of time. He'd resolved from that moment that he needed a way to use the powerful magic without depleting himself completely.

Since Magnus had obtained the Book of White from Clary, he'd learned many energy spells that helped his endurance when he used a overwhelming amount of magic. He'd tweaked them to the point where he could fill himself with enough energy, drawn by the living things around him, that he could sustain himself even with the most powerful spells. The catch was taking that energy was incredibly dangerous. For the most part, he couldn't control where that energy was taken from. Chairman Meow , Magnus's cat, had fallen victim to one such time when Magnus had tried to pull energy from a nearby houseplant. He hadn't realized that he'd taken all the energy from within the small room, until he found his cat lying dead on the ground.

Magnus assessed himself, trying to gage how much energy he had left. He seemed fine, but he feared that any more powerful spells would leave him drained. He thought he could use a little more energy on reserve, but didn't want to risk the chances of him pulling it from someone else's life force.

"I'm fine," he answered Alec, having decided that if push comes to shove, he'd try some basic energy spells at first.

Alec glanced to the top of the building, checking to see if Vixie was in position. He could see a gleam off one of her golden discs at her hip, the crossbow steady in her hands. He gave her a covert thumbs-up, warning her to be on her guard.

Alec glanced across the street through the small slit beside the trash bin. He saw the Geryons, still standing guard in front of the Cathedral doors. A small, silver glint caught his eye from the northern edge of the Cathedral, right behind the row of boxed hedges. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the tiny gleam behind the bush. The small tip of a seraph blade was peaking over the edge of the leaves; his mother was waiting in position, waving her blade stealthily like a white flag.

_The Signal?_

_Now is as good a time as any, _he thought. Alec laced one arrow tight across the bow string. He picked the front Geryon to antagonize first; he looked malicious and brutal, but held a certain swagger about his stance, snapping at the other members of the herd that got too close to him; it gave Alec the impression that this particular Geryon was the herd's alpha male, a perfect pawn to use for upsetting the status quo.

With a small crooked smile, he pulled back tightly on his bow string, taking aim at the large alpha Geryon positioned in the front.

The arrow zoomed through the air, landing soundly against the alpha's armored chest, only penetrating the first layer of thick tenacious armor, not effective enough to cause any harm. Alec watched as the fevered demon assessed the arrow sticking awkwardly out of his chest for a brief moment, befuddled; the Geryon's comprehension as slow as molasses.

"Get ready," Alec called, pulling back another arrow and letting it land only inches from the last as the Geryon alpha continued to stare blankly at his own chest. He face slowly contorted as understanding finally settle in.

The Geryon leader growled loudly, eyeing the surrounding area for the culprit. Alec let another arrow go, and another, revealing his position to the outraged alpha leader and chuckling at the outraged look on the alpha's goat-like face.

"Geeerrryoooonns!!!" the alpha cried, rising back upon his hind legs as he screamed the charging order. The herd screeched back, raising their reddened blades high in the air. They began galloping across the street, leaving indentations in the black-topped streets.

"They're coming," Alec called over his shoulder to Magnus and Maia as he dropped his bow and arrows to the side. He pulled out both seraph blades from his back, preparing to fight.

"Let them come," Maia growled as she morphed into complete wolf form. Magnus held his arms out wide as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. A strong gust of wind started picking up around him, surrounding him in a mini tornado of hot air.

Alec looked up to see Vixie perched along the side of the roof. She had her magnificent crossbow in her hands, shooting off deep red rods in the direction of the charging pack of Geryons. He watched in amazement as rod after rod found purchase at the necks of the Geryons. She was steadily taking them out

one by one from their back line. And the alpha remained unaware.

They approached quickly, attacking Alec head on.

The alpha was incensed and focused, his eyes fixed on Alec as he charged across the street. He leaped over Alec and turned quickly to fight him. He brought down his gigantic sword brutally, the diameter of which was bigger then Alec's head. Alec dodged to the side quickly, coming about and swiping his blade across the alpha's armor. The Geryon leader roared in frustration, plunging his bright red blade straight at Alec's head. Alec contorted his body, arching his back almost painfully, just barely avoiding contact with the ominous blade.

Maia jumped from her crouch, flying through the air till she landed on the back of a Geryon. Her claws were elongated and she used the sharpened tips to hold onto the galloping horse-like body of the Geryon by plunging them deep into the long smooth back. The Geryon screeched in pain, wielding his sword crazily as it tried to dislodge Maia from its back. Maia swiped at the Geryon from behind with her free claw, slicing and tearing at its armored torso, shredding it like a can opener.

Black ichor oozed from the Geryon's back, spraying wildly from its body. Maia grabbed the sides of the torn armor, and with sheer strength, ripped them from the Geryon's body, leaving it neck completely exposed. She bit down hard at the indicated weak point, tearing through it flesh like a knife through butter. The foul tasting ichor coated her tongue as she felt the Geryon disappear into oblivion beneath her. She landed on all fours, preparing to pounce once more.

Magnus blasted forceful, powerful winds at two Geryons who were charging him, catching them in a tornado-like funnel that carried them high into the skies above. Lightening shot down near Magnus, created by the mixture of cold and hot air he wielded at will. He used the energy it produced to gently reenergize him, then turned their power onto two more Geryons lunging toward Maia. He shot lightening from his fingertips, hitting them both through their armored necks, sending them into the next realm.

Vixie stood perched on top of the building, one foot propped up on the side of the roof, her right elbow rested on her raised knee, acting like a tripod support for her crossbow. She shot rod after rod into the unsuspecting Geryons below, hitting directly at their weak point and meticulously obliterating their numbers from behind. She heard the eventual _click _of her crossbow, indicating that she was out of ammunition. She seemed satisfied with her work as she looked over the edge of the roof, evaluating the damage she inflicted; several Geryons lay fatally wounded upon the ground, grabbing their bleeding necks and writhing about as if they were starved for oxygen. Several more had disappeared entirely.

Having Vixie serve as a sniper had increased their odds of victory considerably; there were only a couple Geryons left, and Alec, Magnus and Maia were making short work of them. Vixie scanned the immediate area, looking for any other points of attack. She seemed satisfied that victory was within their grasp, since she could see no ominous foes laying low, seeking an opportunity to ambush them once again. She looked toward the Cathedral, watching as Maryse edged her way to the great doors of the old church. Now that the Geryons had been successfully drawn away from their post, Maryse was able to approach the doors unchallenged.

Sharp movements from Vixie's peripheral vision captured her attention. Her heart sank and her breath caught in her chest.

Dozens of demons: Razeors, Seethers, and flying Dragnoughts, were swarming from the northern corner of the street, right behind Maryse. Vixie suddenly realized, the Geryons were a distraction themselves.

They'd been set up. They'd fallen into a trap.

Time seemed to stand still. Vixie knew that if she didn't warn Maryse in time, she would surely die in the onslaught.

"Maarryyysse!!!" Vixie screamed, her hands cupped around her mouth for increased volume. But Maryse didn't hear her warning. Alec turned his head sharply at Vixie's cry, looking to see what the alarm was.

He saw it the same time Magnus and Maia did; the onslaught of demons was on the brink of overrunning Maryse.

And she was unaware.

Alec plunged his sword deep into the alpha's neck, the large horseman cried in agony as he fell to the ground.

Alec took off running towards his mother grabbing his fallen bow and arrows from the ground while leaving Maia and Magnus behind to finish the last two Geryons. He was screaming her name, but Maryse remained oblivious.

Vixie watched from above, scanning the streets for ways to warn Maryse sooner. She knew that Alec would not get there in time.

Vixie made up her mind quickly, taking a couple steps back on the roof to give herself ample room. She took off at a dead run, heading straight for the edge of the roof. When she approached it, she pushed her feet off the edge, flinging herself into the air lightly.

Vixie pulled three golden rings from her belt in mid-flight, zeroing in on the nearest demons to Maryse and flinging her weapons at her selected targets. The golden discs whizzed through the air, finding their objectives and slicing through their marks adequately. Maryse turned just as the three demons leading the charge disappeared from Vixie's well-aimed attack. She pulled out her blades and began to fight the remaining demons, but she was still outnumbered by a devastating amount.

Vixie fell the three-story height, landing on her feet as nimbly as a cat, directly in front of the steps of the Cathedral. She pulled out two long curved swords and began fighting the demons from behind, trying to get to Maryse, who was being overran by the onslaught. Alec arrived shortly after Vixie, two seraph blades glowing softly in his steady hands.

The three of them fought the dwindling group of demons until there were only two left. Panting and sweating, their fight had only lasted mere minutes, but their endurance had long depreciated.

Maryse had an injury to her right arm, resulting from a crude attack by the jaws of a Razeor. Vixie had been grabbed by the throat by a sharp clawed flying Dragnought demon that had caught her by surprise as she struggled to fight off a particularly strong Seether demon. Alec remained unharmed, adequately dismembering and beheading several Geryons, but had only two remaining blades left.

Maia came charging across the street, slamming into the remaining Seether demons as she tore and clawed her way through their rotten, peeling flesh. After obliterating the demon into the void, Maia stood crouched on all fours, panting from her excursion, black ichor oozed from her fangs as she began to transform back into her human body.

"Disgusting," Vixie murmured, watching Maia blackened face morph into her gentle, feminine human features.

"Chattup," Maia snapped, rolling her eyes as she wiped her face off with the inside of her T shirt. She turned to face Maryse, a look of incredulity and concern on her face.

"What the hell is going on?" she questioned quickly. "I mean, I'm all for a good brawl now and then, but this is ridiculous," she added, motioning to the recently vacated ichor-drenched streets before her.

"Someone _really _doesn't want us to get in there," Magnus replied, giving a quick glance to the heavy Cathedral doors. "And I for one am not interested in having my balls served to me on a silver platter. So, I vote we call it a day," he added, shaking his head in mock resignation as he headed in the direction of home. Alec reached out quickly, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt while Maia growled low in her chest.

"What?" Magnus asked, trying to act nonchalant. Alec just shook his head while Vixie stared at him with a deadpanned expression.

"We need to get inside that Cathedral," Maryse stated quickly, ignoring all jests completely. She made her was towards the door, her right hand outstretched towards the large cast iron handle.

Magnus caught a small flash out of the corner of his eye, looking like it came from the door itself. He took a quick breath in and could smell a subtle change in the atmosphere.

"NO!" he screamed, reaching out to stop Maryse. It was too late; her hand to touched the handle ever so slightly. As soon as it made contact, she was thrown from her feet, flying high into the air in the direction of the adjacent building. Her height such that if she were to free fall to the ground, she would surely shatter every bone in her body.

Magnus worked quickly, pulling the center of gravity from the approximate place Maryse was going to land on the streets below. When she was a half a foot above the ground, careening towards the street and bracing herself for a hard impact, her body froze completely, hovering only an inch above the ground. Magnus grunted with the effort as he held the gravitational force at bay. When Maryse inertial descent was finally ebbed, Magnus let go of the overwhelming pull and she fell the final inch to the ground.

The group let out a collective sigh as Alec patted his boyfriend's back appreciatively. He placed a small, sweet kiss on the back of his boyfriend's neck, right below the ear, and raced to see if his mother was okay. Maryse pushed herself from the dark asphalt of the street, panting and disoriented as to why she wasn't shattered and lying broken on the ground. Alec got to her quickly, helping her into a sitting position and frantically asking if she was hurt in any way. Several ribs seemed to be bruised from the force that sent her flying, making it hard for her to breath and move about. She was also feeling a little sluggish from the poisonous bite of the Razeor.

"What happe--" Maryse began, but Alec cut her off quickly with a single word.

"Magnus."

She looked to the steps of the Cathedral where Magnus stood with the rest of the group. She nodded her head minutely in appreciation, a small smile curving the edges of her mouth.

Maia walked up to Magnus, clasping a semi-clawed hand on his shoulder, "Nothing like getting the ol' 'nod' from the parents, hey?" She chuckled softly, shaking her head back and forth softly as if she was proud of the progress he was making with Alec's parents. Magnus just looked at her with mild disdain, rolled his eyes and mouthed _'Whatever' _under his breath.

"What was that?" Vixie asked, looking towards the doors of the Cathedral in fascination.

Magnus approached the doors wearily. He raised one palm towards the door, placing it so it was horizontal to the deep dark wood, but hovering above it by an inch. He closed his eyes tightly and began muttering under his breath.

Maryse and Alec rejoined the group, Maryse having a little trouble holding herself erect. Maia and Vixie exchanged glances with her, both silently asking her if she was okay. Maryse nodded in recognition of their concern, then turned her full attention to Magnus's assessment of the strange barrier surrounding the doors.

"Dark magic," Magnus muttered with his eyes closed, a strange catch in his voice. His brow was furrowed and his lips were pursed together, as if he were in discomfort.

"Can you break it?" Alec asked, holding Maryse up by her slim waist and adjusting his hold on her slightly.

Magnus continued to mutter and he ran his hand over the door, but not allowing his skin to come in contact with it. Before their eyes, a slightly pink fog started to become visible. It ran the entire length of the Cathedral, covering it in a strong shield, unable to be penetrated at any point.

"No," Magnus stated as he removed his hand from the door, opening his eyes and the fog dissipated back into invisibility. "It's too strong and it'd take too much from me to break it," he sighed.

"How are we going to…" Maia began, but was cut off by a strange vibration originating from within the Cathedral.

The streets began to grumble and moan, causing the five fighters to be unsteady on their feet. Car alarms started going off in the distance and water mains busted onto the streets. The grumble became louder and the winds started to increase in velocity. Maia's hair whipped around her face as she tried to navigate around her surroundings.

"What's happening?" she screamed to Magnus.

"Earthquake?" Alec asked in general.

"No," Vixie answered, trying to help Alec hold Maryse steady. "It's something different. Not good." She had a deep feeling of doom within her gut. Something was not right.

"Shit," Magnus grumbled; In the middle of the street was a vortex: the source of the high winds and grumbling, crumbling streets below them. It was pulling in all the surrounding shrubbery and loose garbage. The nearby newspaper vending machine started to rattle from it hinges bolted to the ground, shaking its way to the center of the vortex. The five of them started to brace themselves as the winds increased, almost acting like a vacuum, causing everything around them to be pulled into the large, swirling pit.

Suddenly, there was a forceful explosion, knocking Magnus and the others to the ground as the winds seized completely. Several windows from the surrounding buildings imploded and the asphalt from the streets went shooting into the air. It took several minutes for the dust to settle. Alec and Vixie helped Maryse as they all struggle to get to their feet.

They looked around the area, trying to decipher the scattered mess of glass and rubble. They all saw it at the same time and froze together in silence; in the middle of the street was a large pit, filled with a silvery liquid substance. It glimmered and shinned in the sunlight like a liquid mirror.

The girls all exchanged curious glances, silently asking each other what the foreign object was. But Alec's eyes were fixed on Magnus as he watched his face contort in horror.

"Alec?" Magnus asked in a high pitched, panicked voice. "How many weapons you got left?" Alec didn't answer; it was pointless. If he had to fight now, what he had left would maybe last him five minutes.

"What is it Mag?" Maia asked, her eyes alternating between Magnus, Alec and the silver pool.

"It's a portal to a Nether World. A place that holds Greater Demons banished from this realm," Magnus answered stoically. "Be prepared to fight. These visitors are gunna be pissed."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"_Jace!" Isabelle called, running to his broken and bleeding body against the wall. Clary had her stele in her hand, tracing several Healing Runes throughout his body, but as soon as she placed them, they'd disappear completely. Clary growled, frustrated._

"_I can't place them!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. "No matter how many I draw on him, they disappear!" Clary was on the verge of panic as she watched Jace bleed to death helplessly. Isabelle knelt by her side, reaching out to stop Clary's trembling hands as she frantically attempted to place rune after rune upon Jace's skin. _

_Jocelyn rushed to Clary, trying to hush her with words of encouragement. But Jace's breathing was becoming labored and Clary knew they didn't have much time left to heal him. _

"_Clary…" Jace grunted, his eyes still closed. _

"NO!" Clary screamed, dropping her stele by her side and clasping Jace's face with both of her hands.

"Jace, look at me!" He attempted to focus on her, holding his eyes wide open with his effort, but they did not remain open for long.

"No, no, no…" Clary began mumbling, frantically ripping Jace's shirt from his body in order to stop his bleeding the old fashioned way…pressure at the source.

She tore his shirt into long strips, using one of them to bandage a large gash in his upper arm. Jocelyn rubbed Clary's back as she worked, trying to comfort her daughter as much as she could. Clary was determined to staunch the bleeding, deep down knowing that it was not Jace's biggest issue; his internal injuries far outweighed a mere dribble of blood oozing from his arm. Jocelyn began to soothe Clary with her words, telling her _'Shhhh, baby. It's alright.' _Clary stopped her actions abruptly, looking at her mother with desperate eyes.

"Mom. Help me," she pleaded, her chin trembling with uncontained fear and dread. Jocelyn looked at her daughter, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. She would give anything to take this pain away from her, but she knew that Jace was probably going to die; his injuries was far to severe to survive without the aide of the Healing Rune.

This was the life of a Shadowhunter, the Nephilium; death, the complete and finalistic truth.

It was a life of sacrifice and loss. It was rare a Shadowhunter lived past the age of thirty, most of the time dying even younger then that. There was not one Shadowhunter who hadn't lost at least one of their family members to the good fight. Max was a perfect example of this tragic truth. It was a hard life filled with pain, death and destruction, and it was for this very reason that Jocelyn wanted to keep Clary far from it. The pain of loosing all that you know is unbearable.

Isabelle knelt on the other side of Jace, tears streaming down her face as she rocked herself back and forth on the back of her heels. She was muttering under her breath, whispering the names of her brothers between heavy sobs. Simon held her gently from behind, rubbing her back and comforting her as best he could.

Father Thomas slowly made his way to Jace's head. He knelt down, making the Sign of the Cross on Jace's forehead while whispering the prayers of the Last Rites.

"NO!" Clary screamed again, throwing herself on top of Jace's stilled body. "No, please God. NO!" Clary sobbed uncontrollably onto Jace's smooth, muscled chest. The smell of him overwhelmed her senses and she basked in his fragrance, letting his essence envelop her like a cocoon.

She couldn't be torn away from him, not now that they were finally together. She thought of all that wasted time spent thinking that Jace was her brother. They could've had more time together, more chances to share their love. She never thought she could've hated her father any more then she had before, but she was utterly mistaken. Valentine was to blame; he had kept them apart, filling their lives with hateful lies and guile. And her mother: the queen of deception.

A deep seeded anger swarmed into her and she began to fill herself with rage. She was going to be his wife; they were going to be happy. _How could this happen? This is not how it was supposed to end, was it?_

Flashes of a brightly colored rune began flashing in front of Clary's eyes as she let the anger and despair fill her completely. She hated _him_: that pathetic excuse for a father and a man. The person who was so self-absorbed that he drove his wife and children away from him. She hated _her_. Her mother's lies and trickery had kept Clary from this world, the world that she belonged to, the world Jace belonged to.

_They _did this. They kept them apart, with their selfishness and deceit. She hated them both with every fiber in her being.

Clary felt the rage consume her, forming a deep vibration within her chest. She started to shake uncontrollably, her mouth forming a vicious snarl and her brow furrowed in malice.

Father Thomas looked at her in alarm as Katia cackled from within her demonic circle in the middle of the Cathedral.

"She is mine now, you pathetic fool," she bellowed. "Let it breed, my sweet Angel Girl. Let it consume you. Call my servant forth to me with your Rage."

"Clary?" Jocelyn asked in alarm, placing her hand on top of Clary's shaking frame. Clary growled and turned toward her mother with nothing but pure hatred in her heart.

"You did this," Clary growled, her voice low and unrecognizable. Jocelyn gasped, looking at her daughter in fear and extreme panic. Clary's eyes had turned red, the force of her penetrating stare made Jocelyn cringe. The ground beneath them began to shake as Clary rose to her feet, her fists clenched at her sides. The atmosphere thickened and a mysterious wind began to blow within the foyer, scattering church pamphlets and programs around the small space.

A maniacal laugh resounded from deep within the Cathedral. Katia was celebrating; her plan was succeeding.

"Clary?" Simon asked, approaching her wearily. But Clary did not acknowledge him. Her eyes were only for her mother, the treacherous woman before her. How she loathed her. How she wished to rip the skin from her face, her limbs from her body, make her suffer as Jace suffered…as she suffered. Images of her beaten warrior floated in her mind.

_Jace._

Clary let out a tortured sob, turning her eyes to her beloved lying broken and bleeding on the ground. She felt the tears well once more in her eyes as she looked at his chest moving in shallow breaths. She knew he had mere moments left, moments with her. She bent to him again slowly, grasping his hand softly and pulling it to her lips. She kissed his broken fingers tenderly as one single tear escaped it perch on her eyelashes, falling to Jace's broken skin.

_I love you, my Angel Boy_, she thought in reverence.

The vibrations in her chest picked up in speed, her breaths coming in rapid succession. She was hyperventilating from the sheer strength of the overwhelming heartache. She clenched her eyes together tight, trying to calm herself so she could look into Jace's dying face once more. But the pain was just too great. If only the damn vibrations would settle, she could calm herself enough to say goodbye to her love. But they only increased in severity.

She screamed in frustration, anger and pain. The sound rebounded off the broken walls and sent an explosion threw the surrounding area. The ceramic tiles that covered the entry shattered as she screamed. The floor beneath them cracked and shifted with the shear force of her cry.

"Clarissa!" Father Thomas called. "It's you Clary. You need to stop this!"

She couldn't understand him over the overwhelming pain and despair, only comprehending the throbbing inside her and whooshing in her ears, the loss in her heart.

"Clary," he was kneeling in front of her now. "Listen to me. There is still time to save him. It's you, Clary. Katia is using you…your power. Don't let her win. Fight the pain. Fight the heartache. Fight the rage, for all of it will consume you. Fight the Angel's Vengeance….it's overcoming you."

She knelt there, panting and sweating, feeling like her whole world was falling apart when she felt a familiar warmth on her right wrist. She slowly glance down to see where the comfort was coming from.

It was Jace.

His hand had fallen from his chest and landed on top of her own. She looked quickly to his face and saw his tired eyes looking back at her. He was smiling at her.

Just smiling a weak, breathless smile that could've stopped her rapid heart beat.

"I love you," he croaked, squeezing her hand with a gentle pressure.

Clary gasped as a flood of warmth invaded her body as the redness in her eyes began to fade. In that moment, the pain dissipated at once, freeing her from its clutches as she stared at her lover with all the joy and sadness in the world.

She began to remember all the times she had stared into that loving gaze. How good it felt to be in his arms, for him to kiss her and be inside her.

Images of their passionate lovemaking started flashing before her eyes, filling her with love, devotion, and lust. She began to feel that familiar heat form deep within her, the same she felt that night back at the Institute, the night he asked her to marry him. The same images she saw that night started flashing in her mind, filling her with warmth and comfort.

She stared at him, thinking of how she longed to be with him…lying next to him in their marital bed. She yearned to hold him, to touch him, to kiss and caress him.

She thought of a lifetime of moments like that, sharing their bodies with one another in the name of unadulterated dedication, adoration and devotion. Flashes of the same Rune kept flashing in her mind, a constant background to the scenes of passion and love floating within her mind.

In the grand scheme of things, the Angels had only given the Nephilium a small amount of Runes in which they could use. They granted them the Book of Grey, in it included runes of war and stealth; only the ones needed to fight adequately against the demonic forces plaguing the world. The Book of White held runes of power that could only be wielded by the most gifted and strong, coveted by Magical Beings like the Children of Lilith. These two books held a compilation of tools for the Nephilium, to use and guide them during their fight in the Angel's name.

But Clary's Runes were different; hers were of forgiveness and of love. She could create them from any emotion, any thought she might have. But all of the ones that had been the most significant, the most mind-boggling, the most powerful and the most true, were those from the mindset of adulation and loyalty.

Clary looked into Jace's eyes and saw nothing but love staring back at her. She focused on it, held onto it with all her might. The flashing images froze on one symbol, one rune.

It was in the shape of a oval. Inside were two wavy lines standing parallel to each other. The surrounding circle pulsed like a beating heart and the two lines moved in synchronization. It was the Rune of Love.

Clary started moving quickly, grabbing her abandoned stele from the ground. She held it steady in her hand, focusing on all the affection and devotion she felt for the man dying in front of her, and drew the new rune on his chest, directly above his heart. As soon as she was done, she turned the stele onto herself, pulling down her yellow tank top and drawing the rune quickly onto her own chest. She felt the familiar burn of the her skin, cringing slightly at the slight pain. As soon as it was done forming, she dropped her stele to her side and leaned into Jace, placing a heated kiss on his cracked, pale lips.

The effect was immediate; the air lightened and the pain seized in Clary's chest. Katia screamed in frustration, her circle was diminishing and she couldn't hold it together much longer.

"Now, Clary," Father Thomas screamed. "Take your stele and place the Healing Rune. Your love for each other has broken the evil she has created. Save him. Now!"

Clary struggled to gain clarity, looking frantically for her dropped stele. She found it quickly and began tracing the Healing Rune upon Jace's broken skin. She held her breath as she watched to see if the rune stayed.

It did.

Jace's breathing started picking up and the color was returning to his ashen face.

Clary screamed in delight, dropping her stele once more and throwing herself on top of Jace's healing body.

Just then, the doors of the Cathedral flew open. Magnus and Maia flew in, followed by Alec and Vixie, who were holding up an tired and injured Maryse.

"About damn time!" Maia screeched. "And to think we were coming to save your assess. Never would've thought we were the ones that would get _our _assess handed to us."

Vixie turned quickly once they were all inside, closing the doors behind her and barricading them with whatever she could find.

"What happened?" Jocelyn asked, raising to her feet and quickly approaching Maryse. Her stele was out of her back pocket and in her hand in a flash. She began tracing Healing Runes upon Maryse, hoping that she wasn't injured by demonic evil that only a skilled Warlock could heal.

"No time to explain," Alec answered, handing off his mother to Isabelle and Jocelyn. "Saint Thomas, I presume?" he asked the grey haired man in brown robes. Father Thomas nodded in agreement, looking at Magnus with a quirked eyebrow.

"Hey, ya ol' hag!" Magnus smiled at the old priest. "How ya been?"

"Magnacious?" Father Thomas asked, stupedified.

"Oh, it's Magnus now," he smiled, waving his hand about the air coolly. "How have you been? It's been too long."

"Well, I--" Father Thomas began hesitantly, only to be interrupted by Alec's annoyed plea.

"Really? Mag, you're going to do this now?"

"What?" Magnus shrugged, looking genuinely taken aback. Alec just shook his head in frustration and turned to Father Thomas.

"Father, there is a rather nasty Greater Demon outside this Cathedral," Alec hurried, pointing towards the front doors that had been heavily blocked by Vixie. "Is there any way they can enter this house of God?"

Father Thomas paused, thinking deeply for several minutes. He thought of all the events that had happened since the Cathedral was invaded. He thought of Katia's words as Clary fought the rage and hatred inside her. He thought of the strange pink spark that sent Jace flying across the room, eventfully breaking every bone in his body.

"I think that was her original plan," he answered slowly. "Yes. She must have placed some sort of evil spell on this place, trapping us in here and keeping you all out. Perhaps it broke the protection that the holy ground provides. Then she used Clary to call forth the Demon of Rage to this realm."

"The Demon of what?" Isabelle asked, a slight twinge of panic in her voice.

"But Clary broke the spell," Father Thomas muttered, ignoring Isabelle's moment of distress. "I don't think he will be able to enter now. The Holy Barrier should hold."

"You _think_?" Vixie snapped impatiently. "We don't have time for guessing, Friar Tuck. We need to be sure or this thing will destroy us all."

"You don't have time for anything, you pathetic mundanes," a wicked, high pitched voice screeched from within the foyer doorway.

"Katia, don't," Magnus screamed, but it was too late. She had pulled a gust of wind, conjured up by dark magic, and used it to shatter the wall separating the foyer from the main hall. Wood and glass scattered into the air as the companions scurried to protect themselves from the falling debris.

Clary fell over Jace, shielding his still mending body with her own as best she could. Several large pieces of wood fell on top of her, cutting her arms and slicing into her back. She screamed in pain and frustration as she felt shards of glass penetrating into her skin like tiny razor blades.

Isabelle was quick on the return, pulling her golden whip from beside her hip and lashing it out at Katia. Maia crouched onto all fours, transforming quickly into her feral beast form. Vixie pulled two golden discs from her belt and flung them steadily towards Katia's rigid body. But they did not find their mark, disappearing as they approached her with a flick of the witch's wrist. Maia lunged at her while Isabelle flung her whip at the evil bitch's head. Katia pulled a gust of wind to her center, creating a tidal wind of power and control. She used its force to capture Vixie, Maia and Isabelle in a strong hold. She sent them flying threw the air across the Cathedral, their bodies colliding with the back wall of the alter and crashing to the floor where they stayed motionless.

Simon roared in anger, charging Katia with the speed of a bullet. Katia caught him by the throat with one hand, her sharp blackened nails digging into the skin at his neck.

"Merchant! Verculis!" she cried. Both men came storming into the foyer, black sparks flashing from their fingertips.

Merchant went racing towards Father Thomas, Jocelyn and Maryse, shooting large balls of black smoke towards their place of refuge. The three of them scattered to avoid the hurdling balls, throwing themselves behind pillars and fallen pews, barely missing their impact as they crashed powerfully against the wall, creating several large holes that were burned into he wood. Magnus pulled Alec behind him as Verculis approached them, blue sparks igniting from his hands.

"We meet again, my old friend" Verculis taunted Magnus. "You look good, Magnacious."

"I am no friend of yours, you foul beast," Magnus hissed, the foreign hate and disdain evident in his voice.

"And my name is Magnus." With that, Magnus shot a bolt of electric blue lightening straight at Verculis's chest. Verculis dodged in the nick of time, landing far off to the side of the Cathedral's first row of pews. Magnus stormed into the Cathedral, passing threw the destroyed doorway that separated the foyer from the main area.

"You stupid bitch," he yelled at Verculis. "I promised myself that I'd never have to walk foot into a Catholic church again. And now look what you've made me do. Damn it! Now I'll have to burn my clothes!" Magnus raised both hands straight above him, lightening sparking into the center of the room from the broken windows above. He sent a current of electricity directly towards Verculis, sending the purple robed Warlock flying across the room, leveling several wooden pews on his way down.

Katia held Simon by the throat, her sharp nails finding purchase into Simon's soft tissue around his neck. She took the opportunity to appraise him curiously, her brow pull together as if she was trying to figure something out.

"What are you?" she asked Simon curiously. "You are neither human nor a Vampire. I have never seen your kind before." Her tone was that of a curious toddler, asking her mother why the sky was blue. But she was not an innocent child. She watched the skin and vessels of Simon's neck rip as she squeezed her grasp tighter, enjoying the amount of blood coating her fingers as his pulse beat.

Simon struggled to breath as Katia's stronghold cinched his windpipe, causing it to fill with blood from his severed jugular vessels. His chest burned with the lack of oxygen and his vision was beginning to darken. Katia continued to stare at Simon with curiosity, as if were an interesting specimen under a microscope. She held on to him with one hand as he struggled and kicked to fight his way free.

"You are very strong," Katia chuckled as she watched Simon wiggle and writhe. "Much more so then those pathetic night dwellers who you call your kin. Interesting. Perhaps I shall recruit you. You do look….tasty," she added, her appraisal turning from inquisitiveness to brazenly lustful as she grazed her eyes over the entire length of Simon's rigid and tense body, his muscles coiling and flexing in attempt to escape.

"You bitch!" someone screamed from Katia's left. The witch snapped her head quickly to the source of disturbance, only in time to see Isabelle send her golden whip flying through the air, latching it securely around Katia's wrist that held Simon prisoner. With all her might, Isabelle pulled Katia's wrist, releasing Simon's neck from the witch's stronghold. Simon fell to the ground, gasping and gurgling as he tried to pull enough air into his lungs to keep him conscious.

"He is mine," Isabelle snarled, flinging her whip above her head to make one giant, rapid circle and bringing it down hard onto Katia's back. Katia screeched in annoyance more so then pain, turning her electric purple eyes onto Isabelle.

"You will pay for that, Nephilium." She pulled a gust of wind together, gathering all the broken particles of glass from the shattered windows above. With incredible speed, she pulled the shards together, heating it until it formed a long, sharp spike made of molten glass. Katia flung it into the air with the flick of a wrist and a quirked eyebrow, straight towards Isabelle's heart.

"NO!" Maryse screamed, limping towards Isabelle as fast as she could push her injured body, the spike whizzing towards her daughter's frozen frame. Isabelle closed her eyes, knowing there was no chance for escape. She braced herself, preparing for impact and pain. But nothing happened.

"Isa…", she heard someone groan. She opened her eyes quickly to see Simon standing in front of her, a large glass rod pierced through his chest. He fell to his knees, his skin becoming impossibly more ashen and pale in front of her.

"No! Simon?" she frantically questioned, helping him down onto the ground. Simon's eyes were becoming opaque and his breathing was that of a fish out of water.

Isabelle had tears streaming down her face as she tried to decipher what she should do to help. She knew Simon healed fast, even faster then the Vampires, but she couldn't get control of her self long enough to figure out how to help him now. Maryse was by her side in an instant, comforting her quickly and taking charge.

"We need to get this out of him," Maryse hurriedly stated. But Isabelle's eyes were fixed on the large whole in Simon's chest. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

"Isabelle!" her mother screamed, shaking her slightly. "Help me pull this out of Simon!" Isabelle slowly pulled her eyes from Simon's damaged chest and looked at her mother with hopelessness and despair.

"Iz," her mother began. "He only has a small window of opportunity here. Let's get this out." Isabelle nodded solemnly, turning back to Simon and grasping the glass rod with both hands. It took a great amount of effort, both women grunting and pulling with all their might as Simon moaned below them. But eventually, the large glass spike was successfully dislodged from Simon's chest. He lay on the ground unmoving and Isabelle collapsed onto his chest, sobbing and crooning his name.

"Katia!" Magnus screamed, approaching her from the side.

"Oh Magnacious, my pet," she crooned sweetly. "Have you come to play with me once more?"

"Oh Katia, Katia," Magnus mocked her. "You were never a play thing," he added, shaking his head in disdain. "I'd like to think of you as more of a…chore," he sneered the last. Katia's once elated smirk turned hideous and malicious in a flash. Before he could process what was happening, Magnus felt an invisible banding wrap around his body, holding him in place as he struggled to move.

"I shall have to teach you a lesson on how you are to address your Mistress," Katia derided. "Yet again," she added, and with a flick of her wrist, Magnus fell to her knees under an invisible weight. He struggled to find release, but none could be found. He closed his eyes tight, trying to find his center. He calmed himself, taking in deep and slow breaths as he felt the energy reforming in his chest.

"Yes. I like this position so much better," Katia chuckled as she slowly encircled him, like a panther stalking her prey. "It suits you, to be on your knees in front of me. Then again," she sighed in reminiscence. "You always were the one hitting your knees."

"You're just jealous that my knees were bent for others, and not just for you," Magnus spat, goading her so that she'd come closer to him. Katia only knew him as Magnacious: an average Warlock, a servant, and an amateur. Not as the High Warlock of New York. And she had no clue as to how strong he had become since he'd acquired the Book of White.

"You filthy, dirty whore!" Katia screamed, her face contorting with deep seeded rage as she raced to stand in front of him, raising her hand like she was preparing to backhand him. In that instant, Magnus released the burning energy from deep within him, breaking the invisible bonds and turning the power of the binding spell against her, sending Katia flying off her feet. She was jetted into the air, circling uncontrollably for a couple rotations, but landed gracefully.

Alec rushed to Magnus's side, trying to offer aide and support, pulling his two remaining seraph blades and preparing to fight.

"NO!" Magnus screamed. "You cannot fight her with brawn. She is too powerful. Only magic can defeat her." He placed two hands on top of Alec's strong chest and began shoving him towards the exits.

"Get them out of here," he screeched, pointing towards the direction of the foyer. Alec tried to object, but Magnus remained adamant.

"I'll handle them. You need to get Clary and Jace safe. It's important, Alec. They must be saved. Run! Now!" Magnus shoved Alec hard towards the doors, while Katia laughed manically in the background, Verculis and Merchante joining her ranks. Alec fell back a couple steps, an extreme sense of conflict and confusion overcoming him. He tried again to join Magnus, preparing to die with him if needed, but Magnus used a shielding spell to stop his advance, the force of which sent Alec stumbling back a couple feet.

Alec stared at Magnus blankly for several moments, not understanding why he was being forced to leave his companion in the heat of battle. Magnus just stared back at Alec, his eyes pleading with him to heed his orders and trust him. It killed him to not be able to explain to Alec all that he knew, why Jace and Clary _had _to be saved. But in time, he knew that he would know…they all would understand.

Alec nodded solemnly, the look of hurt and despair in his eyes breaking Magnus's heart. He turned quickly racing towards the back of the church, where Clary stayed knelt by Jace's healing body. He knelt down beside Clary, looking quickly over Jace's still unconscious face.

"Clary," Alec began, turning to her in earnest. "Where is everyone else?"

"I-I-I don't know," Clary stammered, her hands fidgeting at Jace's face. "I haven't seen anyone since they blew up the wall. Alec, he's not waking up," Clary screeched in panic, her eyes wide with worry. Alec looked over his brother once again, checking for signs of improvement; he looked like he was breathing and his color had returned slightly. His broken skin had kneaded together, but he was still unconscious, still fragile looking.

"His injuries were probably extensive, Clary," Alec murmured, trying to reassure her. "I'm sure it's just going to take a while for him to heal." Clary nodded numbly, her hands shaking as she pulled a piece of curly golden hair from Jace's sweaty brow.

"We need to get out of here," Alec began frantically as heavy crashes and sparks of light illuminated the foyer walls with an eerie glow.

"What about the others?" Clary asked. She began to quickly scan the surrounding rubble for her comrades, seeing if she could make out anyone still standing or needing aide.

Isabelle was knelt by Simon off to the side of the long hall, holding one of his stilled hands in her own. Maryse looked beaten and bruised as she tried to comfort her daughter while she sobbed over Simon. Vixie and Maia lay still by the alter, their bodies laying in a pool of deep red. Father Thomas was helping a severely injured Jocelyn as she attempted to get up from the floor. What Clary saw then made her stomach turn; there was a large whole in Jocelyn's abdomen, a strangely grotesque amount of sausage-like tubing protruding through the opening. Clary gasped, feeling the edge of panic seize her once more. With shaking hands, she grabbed her stele and attempted to run to their aide. Alec grabbed her, forcefully holding her in place as he tried to reason with her.

"No, Clary," he screamed over the loud crashes and explosion, struggling with her to hold her still. "We need to get out of here. I don't know why, but I have to get you and Jace safe."

"It's my mother, Alec! I have to help her! Let me go!" she screamed, trying frantically to get to Jocelyn. "And the others, Simon. They're all hurt. I have to get to them. I have to try."

"It's too dangerous," Alec screamed back, just as a large wooden pew came flying through the air, colliding with the wall and sending debris flying in all directions.

"There's nothing you can do for the others, Clary. They cant take the Healing Rune; they're Downworlders. They'd need a skilled Warlock to heal them quicker. And Magnus is fighting three-on-one so I can get you out of here!"

"They need…" Clary started, but a large explosion sent another pew flying into the air, making contact with Alec and sending him crashing onto the floor. The pew pinned him brutally against the wall, causing him to scream out in pain. Blood began oozing down his shirt, staining it with a slick coat of red.

"You bitch!" Clary heard Magnus scream, just as another crash resounded throughout the decimated Cathedral. Katia laughed excitedly as Clary watched Magnus fly through the air, crashing into the large wooden doors of the entry.

Clary looked round her. She was alone, with no one to help her, no one to guide her and no one to save her.

She was completely alone.

_Remember me, my child, _the familiar words resounded in her head. _When the lights go out, and the clutches of evil have you. Remember that you are Heaven's child._

The words she'd heard after waking up from Simon's Absolution application floated through Clary's mind. They gave her a extraordinary sense of peace and comfort, making her feel like she had an invisible army behind her, readying to fight by her side. Clary felt the familiar power surging in her chest. She knew exactly what she needed to do.

She took a deep ragged breath, kissed Jace's forehead tenderly and pulled herself to her feet.

Magnus lay at the foot of the large wooden doors, bleeding and panting from the fight. She approached him quickly, kneeling down with her stele in her hand.

"I can't fight them," Magnus panted. "There are too many of them. They're too powerful together. Maybe if I had another Warlock…" he explained, looking beseechingly at Clary, hopeless.

Clary quickly grabbed Magnus's wrist and began to draw the Alliance Rune upon his forearm.

Clary was overcome with the power of the Children of Lilith, amplified by Magnus's knowledge of the Book of White and the Angel's blood running in her veins. Clary closed her eyes from the onslaught of images alternating before her eyes; runes of power, strength and unending endurance came flooding into her mind, each filling her with the essence of their implication. Blindly, Clary fisted her stele and began tracing these runes upon her skin, the familiar stench of the burns filling the air.

Clary heard a dark chuckle from behind her. She flung her eyes open, her vision sharper and edged with a tint of rose.

Before her stood Verculis and Merchante, both sneering at her as if she was a piece of cake they were about to devour. Behind them, Katia held Father Thomas by the throat, her mother's motionless body on the ground.

"I think we found our spoils from this fight," Merchante remarked to Verculis. Both men smiled as they started to spread out, backing Clary into the small foyer walls.

"Beautiful," Verculis murmured.

"Delicious," Merchante countered.

A harsh, painful scream reverberated around the room, making Clary flinch as she watched Father Thomas being thrown by the neck across the room, slamming into a large cement pillar and crashing to the floor, unmoving. Merchante and Verculis chuckled as they watched Clary cringe.

"Not one for violence," Merchante commented as Verculis shook in head in mock disdain.

"Too bad," Verculis sighed. "She'd have been fun to torture first." Both men laughed mercilessly, closing in on Clary's position as Clary pulled her seraph blades, readying for a fight.

"Enough!" Katia screamed, making her way towards them quickly. "Kill the Angel boy now," she directed, pointing her finger at Jace on the ground. "Then take her to _him_. He wants her now." Merchante and Verculis turned their attention towards Jace lying still on the ground, black sparks igniting from their hands.

Something inside Clary snapped as she watched them closing in on her helpless lover. She could feel the power growing exponentially, causing a surge of energy to radiate down her fingertips. The atmosphere changed quickly as a mysterious wind started bellowing through the foyer. Clary's hair whipped about her as she started speaking in tongues. Her body raised an inch off the ground as she held her arms out wide, a bright white light shooting from the tips of her fingers. The light seemed to resided inside her, illuminating her skin and the whites of her eyes to blinding proportions. Merchante and Verculis froze in their spots, watching Clary with horror and amazement.

"Now! You fools," Katia called, but neither man budged from the trance Clary's transformation invoked.

"You idiots! Kill him now!" Katia made her way towards Jace. The fire inside Clary sparked and she shot a powerful beam of light directly at Katia, sending her twitching and panting to the floor.

"_Do not touch him," _Clary's voice echoed as her illuminated body still hovered above the ground. Magnus watched in fascination as Clary could see Jace started to come to.

"Clary?" he asked weakly, not sure if he was truly awake or dreaming. Having heard Jace, Merchante was pulled from his Clary-induced stupor. He quickly started to lunge towards Jace, attempting to kill him with the dark magic dripping from his hands.

"_NO_!" Clary screamed. "_I will not let you touch him!" _The ground began to rumble and the walls started to quake. Plaster and wood began falling from the ceilings.

Clary's light grew even brighter, the winds tornado-like in speed and forcefulness. Clary threw her head back, letting out a loud high-pitched scream. The light shot from her once more, this time as a flat beam of power. It sliced its way through the foyer, coming into contact with Katia, Merchante and Verculis at the level of their abdomens, slicing them completely in two. The remaining body parts fell to the ground, twitching and oozing deep red.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**AN: Okay, give it up people! That was a long heated chapter. Over 10K!!! Proud?**

**I know I promised to post this earlier, but my main board went out on my computer so this had to be rewritten from memory and by hand. **

**I'm sure you all have many questions. Let me hear them. **

**Who do you think died? And what's up with Katia/Verculis and Magnus? Love to hear your theories. **

**Voting****: It's still going on over at the Mortal Archives site. Go and vote for your favs. **

**Reviews****: I know we can do better than 10 reviews for this chapter. Even an anonymous one is cool with me. Let me hear what you think!**

**Bonus Stuff****: Do you guys like it? I hope so cause I love putting it together. Let me know if its good. Do you want more? Less?**


	19. Chapter 18 Marked

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

***Warning: Content is violent in nature. You've been warned***

***Lemon Warning: If you're not old enough to read it, then peace out now!***

Chapter 18 - Marked

Katia laughed wildly as she watched Magnus's body fly through the air and crash into the large wooden doors of the Cathedral's entry way. It had been too easy to destroy them all. She thought the little group mixed with Shadowhunters and Downworlders would offer more of a challenge, for their reputation as exceptional fighters preceded them; but when pure magic is involved, brute strength and ancient weaponry would not suffice. And Katia was a skilled magician, having offered her soul up long ago in exchange for demonic power and knowledge of dark magic.

Merchante and Verculis closed in on Magnus and Katia's main target: The Angel Girl.

When she took this assignment, she figured out who Clary was and why _he _wanted her so badly.

In all honesty, she wasn't sure that his plans for Clary would result in a positive outcome for her, especially for her kind, but the amount of money offered for her services couldn't be turned away.

"Katia stop," a pained and tired voice called from her side. She turned quickly to see who would dare challenge her alone. Before her stood a frail man in brown robes, holding a long sword in trembling, nervous hands.

_Saint Thomas, he shows himself at last. _

The one highlight to this assignment for Katia was the fact that this pathetic servant was involved. Long had The Oracle been a thorn in her side, constantly foreseeing her plans of debauchery and homicide, thwarting her efforts. He had cost her many a pretty penny, but he wouldn't be an issue for very much longer.

"There you are," she sang like a worried mother, who just found her missing child in a super market. "My, you are a hard person to corner."

"Katia, I'm going to give you this warning once," Father Thomas heeded, his eyes narrowed in sincerity as he held his sword aloft. "Stop what you're doing now. You have no idea of the power the Angels have granted his servants here in this realm." Katia laughed at his statement like he'd told the most entertaining joke.

"I've seen it, Katia. I've seen this all and there is nothing you can do to stop it but only to get out of the way." Katia trained her purple eyes on Father Thomas, looking over his frame as she tried to decipher where to begin with him. _Should I start with his arms first? _she contemplated silently while wearing a concerned look on her face. She was sure that he would misinterpret her hesitancy and expression as if she were thinking about his words, reevaluating whether she'd want or should continue with her job based on his warning. But in reality, she couldn't wait to destroy the pathetic creature in front of her, no matter what guile he spat from his mouth.

"Dear Saint Thomas," Katia crooned, a tinge of mock resignation in her voice. "I'm so sorry. Shall I repent and all will be forgiven? Will you call me your child and welcome me with open arms? Will you guide me to the _light _and show me the error of my ways?" She began laughing at her perceived humor, feeling that it all was just too ridiculous to believe. She'd once fell victim to his ramblings, believing that she was loved and had a planned purpose here on Earth. But now, she knew better.

She was damned; she knew it. And she welcomed it like sunlight to a flower.

With alarming speed, Katia called a gush of wind to her while channeling the force of gravity to her body. She held out her hand, palm facing forward as she willed Father Thomas's body towards her using the wielded forces as unwavering weaponry. His sword clattered to the marble floor as he felt his body being lifted off the ground.

Father Thomas flew through the air, stopping only when his neck was firmly in Katia's grasp. She laughed again, but this time it was not in humor, but in morbid anticipation for the numbing feeling that preceded murder. It called to her like a addictive drug and she was yearning for a fix.

"Don't do this Katia," Father Thomas hissed through the pain and clenched teeth. He struggled against her vice-like grip, desperately. Katia tightened her grasp at his neck. "You were once good; you could fight the temptation. Don't damn your soul into the flames."

"My poor , sweet Prophet," Katia sneered as she ignored his plea. "Did your Angels tell you that _this _would happen? Did they tell you that your centuries of service would end at my hand? That you would not live to see _any _of your prophecies come to fruition? And that you would watch me hand over the one hope this world has to _his _hands?"

A small tear fell from the corner of Father Thomas's eye. Katia saw it as a sign of weakness and fear, but it was not a result of sadness or trepidation on his part. He had seen this, all of it. And he knew that this would lead to her down fall, in _his _downfall. This tear was in realization and recognition that his service had resulted in a cornucopia of destined events that only could be planned by the Omnipotent Design. He had dedicated his life in order for all of this to come to pass, and it was all falling into place. The countless visions, the confusing dreams he'd had all made sense now.

"Kill me, if you wish," Father Thomas spoke reverently. "But please know that my death would be a blessing, for it would only trigger the Culmination. And I offer it up freely. My time here is almost complete, as is yours." A smile formed on Father Thomas's face as a sense of comfort and clarity enveloped him.

"You always were a fool," Katia chuckled, her grasp tightening further, causing Father Thomas to cringe in discomfort as streams of blood poured from his neck. "Look around you! Your Angel Boy is still upon the ground and soon will be destroyed by my men. Your Angel Girl is cowered in a corner with no one to aide her but my feeble leftovers in the shape of a withered old Warlock. Magnacious always was a disappointment, don't you agree?"

"You have no idea how strong he is, Katia," Father Thomas smiled. "If it weren't for the fact that he was exhausted from expending unprecedented magic this day, he'd have destroyed you when he first stepped into this House."

"Ah, but he hasn't," Katia retorted, a gleam in her eye. "And now he is lying on the ground, pitiable and ineffectual as always."

"But his power is still there," Father Thomas enlightened. "Tell me, Katia. Have you ever heard of Alliance?" Katia stood there, dumbfounded. She'd heard rumors of the battle of Idris only months ago; something about a rune used for Downworlders that made them share their abilities with the Nephilium and vice versa. Her eyes widened as realization encased her.

"NO!" she screamed as Father Thomas's smile widened. Katia flung Father Thomas brutally across the room, his body slamming into the marble column of the church and falling to the ground in heap of broken and bleeding flesh. Katia let her eyes linger there for only moments, watching in enjoyment as the blood pooled on the ground. _Good Riddance,_ she thought.

She turned towards the trapped girl in the foyer, watching as Merchante and Verculis teased her, taunted her.

"Enough!" Katia exclaimed, feeling frustrated with the fact that her useless minions wasted valuable time playing with their captors. Time was precious and things needed to be dealt with quickly.

"Kill the Angel Boy, now. Then we'll take her to _him. _He wants her now." Katia watched as her henchmen enclosed upon the still boy's position, the killing spell dripping from their fingers. She loved nothing more then killing, but a strong second favorite was watching her lovers take out a selected target. It excited her, filled her with raw passion and adrenaline. _Later_, she thought numbly as she turned her sights on the girl standing before Magnacious.

As she assessed the girl graced with the Angel's blood, she recognized that something was off, strange; the girl looked different then she had before, but Katia couldn't place the change. She glanced back at Magnacious lying weary on the floor. He was watching the girl in fascination as well. Katia caught a small glimpse of Magnacious's forearm. _Was that a rune on a Downworlder?_

Dread started creeping into her body as she thought of Father Thomas's words. _"Have you ever heard of Alliance?"_ he'd said.

_No._

She snapped her attention back to Clary, who seemed to be illuminated by the raw power flowing through her body. Katia began to panic.

"Now you fools! Kill him now!" Katia screeched, terror gripping her as she watched Clary transform in front of her eyes. They only had mere moments to fulfill their mission, but her men remained entranced by the Angel Girl's conversion.

Katia needed to finish this herself. She made a move upon the Angel Boy when she felt a sharp jolt of electricity charge through her body. She fell to the ground in agony, writhing and aching in pain. She was down for only seconds, but it was enough to cause her alarm in the fact that this girl could disarm her. A Shadowhunter.

Katia popped to her feet as she saw Merchante closing in on the Angel boy. Together they'd finish him, then turn their combined force upon Clary.

Suddenly there was a bright light and a searing pain to Katia's abdomen. She felt her body falling as her mind was frozen in shock, not comprehending what was happening until the overwhelming agony hit her full on.

She was dying.

She was defeated.

And everything went black.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Mom, he's not coming around," Isabelle panicked, watching Simon struggle to breath on the ground before her. She'd been oblivious to the event unfolding around her, only aware that her love lay dying upon the floor.

"Isabelle," Maryse called as she watched Father Thomas imprisoned at Katia's hand, Jocelyn's body lay unmoving at the witch's feet. "Simon is a vampire. They can't die so easily. He will heal, it's just going to take time."

"No, Mom. He's a…" Isabelle began, frustrated, but was cut off by a loud scream and a resounding crash. She didn't even look up to investigate it's cause; her eyes were fixed upon Simon's face.

"Father," Maryse gasped. "Isabelle, I need to go and help Jocelyn and Father Thomas. Stay here and out of sight. I don't know where the other two are, understand?" Isabelle nodded dully as Maryse pulled herself from her daughter's side.

Isabelle watched as Simon struggled to breath. He was incredibly pale, diaphoretic and his pulse was becoming weak. It was torture to sit and watch him fight against death, hoping that his body would heal fast enough and feeling utterly helpless against it. She couldn't place Healing Runes on him because he was a Downworlder and she knew that they couldn't accept runes from the Grey Book. _But could the Vertis Lamina?_ That was a risk Isabelle was not willing to take.

She fought against herself, thinking of what else she could do to help him. They didn't know much about the Vertis Lamina, only what had been revealed by Father Thomas's trance down in the catacombs. And could they really trust what had been said? He was, after all, possessed by Beelzebub in the end. Who knew if what Father Thomas revealed could be trusted as truth or not. Isabelle relived what he'd said about Simon's transformation in her head, trying to find any detail that'd help her save him.

"_Vampirism is the disease caused by Cain's original sin. He was tempted by the Demon of Envy; it would whisper to him, cause him to go mad with jealousy of his brother Abel's favor among Heaven. It infected him, causing him to murder from its constant presence and he was not strong enough to fight it. _

_When God discovered his crime, he called to Cain ' your brother's blood cries out to me from the ground. Now you are under a curse and driven from the ground, which opened its mouth to receive your brother's blood from your hand. You will be a restless wanderer on the Earth'. The Vampires are children of Cain, forever cursed to walk this world alone, forever 'marked' in recognition for what they are. When Simon received Absolution, he transformed into what Cain's original intent was to be: a Veritas Lamia; a true vampire, without the taint of the demon's influence and infection of Envy. From this day forward, all children from Simon's seed will be gifted the speed, accuracy and strength of the Veritas Lamia, having been cleansed from the sins of their father." _

The fact that Father Thomas had said Simon could have children confused Isabelle. How could it be? Even if he did find another Vertis Lamina to procreate with. The thought of that made her stomach turn.

"_He has begun aging, and will continue to do so until he finds his mate. Then, once he has marked her as his own, they both will stop aging, leaving them countless years to populate the Veritas Lamia. This is Heaven's original intent." _

Isabelle let out a frustrated growl, not finding anything that could help Simon in the discovery of his roots, his truest form. But then she remembered something else that Father had said, something he'd revealed when Simon asked if he needed blood to survive.

"_The blood needed was repayment for the life taken so many years ago. It is not a necessity for you, but will strengthen you if given willingly."_

Strengthen him? Isabelle thought of his words, an internal battle going on inside her. It was true that the Vampire transformation only occurred if the victim were to taste infected blood, like it had when Simon bit Raphael when he was a rat, thereby triggering the change. What if she were to offer her blood to Simon, would that change her? Would it cause her any harm? Or would it only provide Simon the needed strength to mend his broken body?

Sacrifice.

That's what he'd done for her; he flung his body into the path of Katia's glass spear in order to protect Isabelle from death. He faced it and took it without hesitation or fear in order to keep her from harm.

She would do the same.

Isabelle grabbed a piece of broken glass from the ground and held it steadily to her wrist. She pierced her skin, causing a small pool of blood to rise to the surface. Without hesitancy, she placed her bleeding wrist to Simon's mouth.

It was an offering: of life, love and devotion.

The effect was immediate. As if the smell of the blood under his nose were like smelling salts, Simon's eyes flew open and his mouth attached to Isabelle's wrist.

He latched onto her, his needle-like teeth unsheathing themselves from their hidden compartments and sinking into her soft flesh. Isabelle gasped at the feeling, but it wasn't painful. It was almost erotic; the venom from Simon's mouth acted like a stimulant, resulting in an intense sense of pleasure at the mere feeling of Simon's lips upon her flesh. It coursed through her, heightening everything she was feeling so that the lightest touch could've sent her into a cataclysmic euphoria. The sensation of him pulling life from her body to replenish his own was the ultimate intimacy between two people. They shared their life force in that moment, their vary essence as her blood filled him and his venom entered her.

Isabelle let out a gentle moan at the sensation, her eyes rolling into the back of her head in pleasure. Simon's eyes flashed to her and he immediately let go of his hold on her. The ecstasy started to dissipate, but there was a residual of it lingering in both their bodies.

Simon stared at her with amazement as he watched her transform in front of his eyes. Isabelle's features sharpened so that she was even more beautiful. Her lips became fuller, more sensual. Her eyes brightened and her lashes darkened, making her even more alluring than before. She seemed to have a slight radiance to her that gave off a stimulating glow, triggering Simon's innate nature to kick on, filling him with an intense need to overcome her and claim her as his own. He didn't know if he was just seeing her differently, now that they'd shared blood and venom, or if she was truly transforming into something else.

_Had he 'marked' her as his own? _The thought of it stopped Simon's pleasure cold in its tracks.

"Iz," he began, regretfully. "Why did you do that?" Isabelle looked at him in confusion.

"You were dying," she argued. "I had to do something. And Father Thomas said…"

"Father Thomas was possessed, Iz. Who knows if what he said was accurate."

"I couldn't just watch you die, Simon. Not being able to do anything was torture. I only did what I could to save you." Simon stared at her in awe. She potentially sacrificed her life to save his. What if she were to turn into one of his kind? What if he wasn't able to stop and he'd drained her dry? How would've he lived with himself?

He pulled her close to himself, wincing slightly as she touched his mending chest. Isabelle began to sob onto Simon's shirt, staining it with more than blood or tears, but with the overwhelming relief and love she felt for him.

It was true that when Isabelle saw Simon transform in front of the Institute, earlier that morning when Clary gave him Absolution, that she'd felt a strong pull towards him. Yes, he was more beautiful then before his transformation and the core of him seemed to radiate through his pores, but there was something more about how she felt about him. Almost like she needed to be around him, that he was a part of her and the only way she could ever feel whole was to be next to him.

Simon felt it too. The first thing he'd noticed when he came to that morning, was the presence of Isabelle beside him. He could smell her, feel her essence without opening his eyes.

_Mates._

Is that what they were? Is that why they'd both felt differently about each other after the transformation? More attraction and had stronger feelings for one another? Like they'd belonged to each other?

They'd cared about each other before, even declared their love to one another in Idris. But nothing could compare to the nature of their feelings now. She would give her life for him. She almost did, as he almost did for her.

Like Romeo and Juliet, their lives were intertwined now; whatever happened to him would happen to her. They weren't individuals, but a single unit, balancing and complementing each other. Where she was racy, he was conservative. Where he was quirky, she was refined.

Kismet.

Could it be part of the Omnipotent Design?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jace watched Clary in horror, not understanding what was going on. He saw Magnus lying up against the large wooden doors, Clary standing in front of him looking like some electric creature had overtaken her, causing her skin to illuminate the small foyer.

"Clary?" Jace asked, terrified. But she didn't look at him. Her focus was on the three other people standing in the room, two of which were making their way towards him. Before Jace could process what was happening, Clary's voiced echoed throughout the room.

"_I will not let you touch him." _With that, a sharp beam of light shot from Clary's fingertips, blinding Jace and obliterating the three people in the room.

Clary fell to the ground in a hump, her body twitching as if she were suffering a seizure. Jace scrambled to her side, still sore and weak from his injuries. Magnus pulled himself from his spot in front of the doors, meeting Jace beside Clary's body.

"Clary?" Jace's voice was shaking. "Clary, baby. Are you alright?" Jace asked, trying feebly to awaken Clary from her current state. She was trembling and sweating. Her skin felt hot to the touch and her face was flushed red. She was also mumbling under her breath in a strange language that Jace didn't understand. He turned to Magnus quickly.

"What happened?" he asked, feeling disoriented and confused. The last thing he'd remembered was fighting the Forsaken guards with Simon. The rest was blank. He took a quick look around him and was in complete shock at what he saw. The Cathedral lay in shambles around him; Alec was pinned upon the wall by a large wooden pew, his breathing was labored and blood saturated the front of his shirt. He could hear commotion behind him, but didn't have the patience or drive to look.

"No time to explain," Magnus responded. "Basically we were attacked outside by several nasty groups of demons while trying to get you all, Clary got pissed cause she couldn't heal you and called the Greater Demon of Rage to this realm, all aided by a nasty witch who I lovingly call, my ex. AKA the severed bitch on the floor before us now," Magnus rambled, gesturing to the remains of the three Children of Lilith laying bleeding and twitching on the floor.

Jace looked at Magnus, stunned. _His….what?_

"No time, Jacie Poo. Got to go heal My Love." With that, Magnus got up quickly and headed to Alec. He used a small spell to force the pew away from Alec's body and began a simple healing spell to aide in Alec's mending, while Alec's used his stele to trace Healing Runes on his own forearm.

Jace stared at Clary as he traced his fingertips along the edge of her hairline, whispering calming words and trying to help her regain awareness. But Clary continued to shake and mumble as if she was trapped in her mind, being held there, secluded, by a strange power. Several moments had passed as he knelt by her side, looking over her body again and again, seeing if there was any flicker of a sign that she was recovering from whatever ailed her.

Jace didn't notice that Alec and Magnus were at his side, trying to get his attention, until Alec physically turned Jace's face to his.

"Jace," Alec said sternly. "We need to come up with a plan on how to get out of here." Jace's comprehension was slow; he still felt weak from his injuries.

"Front door?" Jace asked with incredulity, not understanding their current predicament.

"Haven't you been listening?" Magnus asked, exasperated and impatient. "There is a wicked Demon outside, waiting to send us into the abyss. Ring any bells?"

Alec placed a calming hand on Magnus's shoulder, giving him a look of comfort and tolerance. He knew that Magnus was spent, emotionally and physically.

"Let's fight it," Jace stated, flatly, as if it was the obvious choice. In reality, he was slightly disappointed that he'd been unconscious through everything, and in typical Jace-fashion, his body was humming at the prospect of a good fight. Magnus gave him a dubious expression, then looked around the small room dramatically.

"You and who else?" Magnus asked. "In case you hadn't noticed, we are the last ones standing from what I can tell. And I'm not fighting anymore. I've met my quota for the day," Magnus retorted, folding both arms across his chest, defiant.

"Have a better idea?" Jace asked sharply. "We can't stay here. They may have told others that we're here, and if more come, I don't think we could fight them off for long." Alec exchanged a look with Magnus, and then with Jace. All of them seemed to be at a loss for a solution. Their weaponry had dwindled and their companion's conditions unknown. Jace let out a frustrated growl, then looked again down at Clary. If they couldn't find a way out at the moment, then he'd try and decipher what was wrong with her.

"What happened to her?" Jace asked, his brow pulled together in concern.

"She's in shock," Magnus answered unemotionally. "That was some heavy magic she used. I think it short circuited her wiring."

Jace looked at him, furious. "She's not a damn robot, you asshole. She's a person," he retorted as Alec chuckled softly.

"Nevertheless, her biscuits have been fried and she needs some good 'R' and 'R'. That's all," Magnus replied with indifference.

"That's all," Jace mocked. Secretly, he was thankful to Magnus. If he hadn't blackmailed Clary into retrieving the Book of White from the Wayland Manor, in exchange for his aide in helping cure Jocelyn from her coma, they'd probably not be here or would've survived through what they'd had. The spells from that book had helped them in more ways then one, but Jace was still leery about its contents and Magnus's true motivation of its acquisition.

"Come now boys," Alec teased like a scolding father. "Let's figure out our next step."

"How is everyone else?" Jace asked, looking behind him for the first time. He thought he could make out the tops of Isabelle and Simon's heads in the middle of the Cathedral behind several dislodged wooden pews. Maryse was knelt down by Jocelyn as her stele traced several runes over Jocelyn's body. Vixie was struggling to the front of the church, with Maia's body over her shoulder in a firemen's carry.

"We need to go help," Alec stated, moving to help Jace lift Clary from the ground. But Jace carried her small frame effortlessly, pulling her close to his chest and placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

The three of them made their way towards where the others were congregating: towards the middle of the church. As Jace surveyed the others, he realized that their injuries were greater than he'd first discerned.

Vixie was badly bruised and looked like she had several broken ribs, a laceration to her face and head, and was limping on her right foot. Despite that, she'd been able to carry Maia from the foot of the alter, hoping that Manus would be able to heal them both quickly, incase they were ambushed once more.

Maia remained unconscious and unmoving, despite her natural rapid healing ability; apparently, her internal injures were severe, adding to the several lacerations throughout her body that were coating her clothes in a thick sheen of sticky blood.

Simon's shirt was caked in red, a large whole covered the front of his 'Thriller' shirt, as if he'd been pierced through. He seemed to be healing, though still weak on his feet.

Isabelle looked exhausted, both emotionally and physically. She had several cuts and bruises forming across her body. She looked different to Jace somehow, but he couldn't place it. _Could she be….happy? _It seemed an odd thing for her to be, among the chaos that surrounded them. As Jace overlook his comrades, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. It must have been some fight for all of them to be taken down so thoroughly. And there he was, passed out on the ground like some pansy, his fiancé watching over him like he was an ailed toddler. He felt a sense of injustice at it all.

But when his assessment turned to Jocelyn, his feelings of inadequacy turned to those of panic.

Maryse was knelt down by Clary's mother, frantically trying to work over her body. What Jace saw next made his stomach turn; Maryse was forcefully shoving Jocelyn's mattered intestines back into her body through a large whole in her abdomen. She was rotating between shoves and placing Healing Runes on the broken skin that surrounded her wound. Alec bent down quickly to take the job as rune artist as Maryse continued to literally stuff Jocelyn back together.

"Oh my god," Isabelle whispered as she watched Maryse in morbid fascination.

"Is she still breathing?" Simon asked in concern. Clary had been his best friend for a long time, and he always had looked to Jocelyn as a second mother-type figure. He also knew quite well that Clary would be a wreck if anything happened to Jocelyn.

"Yes," Maryse panted, still weak from her bout with the Razeor outside the Cathedral. "But I can't heal her until she is completely together."

"Thank god she's unconscious," Isabelle murmured. Jace had assumed that she'd meant that it was good for Jocelyn to be unconscious, because she'd be in excruciating pain if she were coherent. But when he flashed a glance at Isabelle, she was staring at Clary's shaking form in Jace's arms. He looked down at Clary's troubled face and pulled her closer to his chest. If Clary knew what was happening right now, she would be inconsolable. Jace was happy for small favors.

"We need to get out of here," Maryse spoke quickly, shoving the last of Jocelyn together. "These runes will help her sustain life long enough so that her body can begin to mend, but we need trained healers to see her." Maryse looked around the Cathedral quickly, as if the answered was hidden behind the rubble.

"Magnus," Vixie started. "Can't you heal them?" she asked, gesturing her head to Jocelyn and Maia's body slung over her shoulders. Vixie unhinged Maia from around her, and laid her flat on one of the wooden pews. Maia remained still.

"Here's the deal," Magnus began. "The only way I see us getting out of here is to portal into the Institute. It's going to take a large amount of power and concentration because I have to fight against the Holy ground barriers of not only the Cathedral, but the Institute as well."

"I didn't think you could portal into holy ground," Jace asked, confused.

"Listen and learn, grasshopper," Magnus smiled. "I can do a great many things with the Book of White. It's just going to take a lot."

Jace smiled in reply, once again thankful for that damn book.

Magnus turned to Maryse quickly, "Once we are there, I can call a Warlock that I trust. He can help me with the healing. I think everyone here is injured in one form or another. We could all use some replenishing." Maryse nodded in return, still knelt by Jocelyn's body.

"Where is the priest?" Vixie asked, momentarily breaking the moment of discernment. Jace began looking around quickly, not seeing his form anywhere within the vicinity.

"Spread out," Alec ordered. "We can't leave him here. There may be others coming." Everyone who was able began searching among the rubble for Father Thomas. Jace knelt down to the ground and set Clary down momentarily so that he could join in the hunt, feeling incredibly useless during today's events. At least he could help now.

Vixie, Jace, Simon and Isabelle spread out to find the fallen priest, the latter two looking together as a unit, neither one being able to be separated from the other for the moment. Vixie looked over to the foyer while Isabelle and Simon walked over to the alter. Jace started in the immediate area, moving large pieces of wood and marble off the ground.

As Jace looked, he tried to figure how things had gone so wrong.

_How did they know they were here? _They'd only left for the Cathedral this morning on a mere whim, deciding to go only after Simon's transformation. It wasn't planned, and there wasn't time for the information to 'leak out', because they 'd left moments after deciding they needed to go to the Prophet for answers.

But Father Thomas did say there was a traitor among them. _Was that while he was possessed?_

Millions of scenarios flashed behind Jace's eyes. Maybe someone was watching them outside the Institute and saw everything that'd happened. The thought of that creeped him out.

A soft groan caught Jace's attention from his side. He raced to the general vicinity where he thought he'd heard the sound from. There was a large pile of wood, marble and fallen glass. Jace carefully started to pull it away from the pile, revealing a battered and broken Father Thomas beneath. The priest's legs were jarred out at odd angles and there was a large piece of wood lodged into his right shoulder. Blood was seeping from the back of his head and his face was cut in several places.

"Father," Jace began, but was cut off by the priest's agonized pleas.

"You need to keep her safe," Father Thomas began with a trembling voice. "All of this has been preordained and there is much heartache to come."

Father Thomas grimaced as Jace removed the last of the wood off the priest's broken legs. Jace knelt by Father Thomas's head, pulling his stele from his back pocket.

He was going to put the Healing Rune on Father Thomas, but was stopped by Father Thomas's hand.

"No, my boy." Jace looked at him quizzically. "I do not have Nephilium in my blood. I will most certainly be turned into a Forsaken."

Jace began to argue, "Surely the Angels will grant this for you. You've served for so long that…"

"Preordained, my son," Father Thomas interrupted. Jace looked at him incredulously. _How could someone's death be planned?_

"I'll get Magnus. He could heal yo…"

"NO!" the old priest screeched, pulling at Jace's shirt with unyielding strength. "There's no time. You have to understand," Father Thomas's words were becoming quick and panicked as Isabelle and Simon joined Jace's side.

"The killings, the attacks on the council members in Idris…they are all linked to this. It's all the same," Father Thomas warned, staring beseechingly into Jace's confused eyes while still clutching at his shirt.

"The gift from the Angel, it's more important than you know, Jace. She needs to know. Tell her before it's too late."

Simon motioned for Isabelle to get her mother to come, then knelt down next to Father Thomas, reaching to pry the priest's stone grip from Jace's shirt.

"You need to rest now," Simon told the priest. Father Thomas just laughed mirthlessly, eyes widening as he stared at the ceiling unseeingly.

"Yes," he replied softly. "My rest is coming shortly." He turned his eyes onto Jace, who continued to stare at the broken man befuddled.

"You are so blessed, my son. There is so many things for you to rejoice in. I know you've been lost, and dismissive of the grace awarded to you," Father Thomas said sweetly.

"It wasn't granted, Father Thomas. We were poisoned, Clary and me. We were her Father's experiments, nothing more." Jace spoke flatly, breaking his gaze with the priest and fixing his eyes on the marble ground below him.

Father Thomas raised one shaking hand from the ground and placed it on Jace's cheek.

"Do not misjudge his actions, young one. His doings were malicious in intent but were Heaven's Will nonetheless. As is all of this you see around you."

Jace scoffed at that. "Death and destruction? That's Heaven's Will? That's sick, or does Heaven get its jollies off of the torment and pain of others?" Jace was seething, his fists were clenched by his side as he thought of Clary, having to fight by herself while Jace was lying helplessly on the ground. He thought of how upset she would be when she woke up to find her mother injured…if she woke up.

"Anger will lead to rebellion, Jace," Father Thomas spoke quickly, his face scrunched in pain. "Do not turn your back on your duty, on her." Jace's face flashed to Father Thomas in outrage.

"I would NEVER leave her," he shouted, his face inches from the old man's face.

"Please…" the old man pleaded. "Do not leave her. Jace, come back." Jace pulled away quickly, looking at Father Thomas more closely now. The old priests eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling again, seeing something that wasn't there. Simon and Jace exchanged quizzical glances, while Isabelle returned toting a tired and weak Maryse.

Father Thomas was mumbling incoherently now, a light sheen of sweat coating his brown.

"What happened?" Maryse asked.

"I don't know. He kinda went all fatherly on Jace, then started talking crazy, saying that Jace was going to leave Clary," Simon replied, looking at Jace who nodded in confirmation.

"Clary," Father Thomas mumbled. "Poor, sweet Clary. He'll take her and force her…no…don't leave her Jace. She needs you. If you leave, she will suffer greatly." The four of them watched and listened to Father Thomas mumble for several more minutes, all exchanging curious glances from each other. At one point, Simon and Jace went to move the old priest, seeing if they could attempt to move him to a safer place; if Jace couldn't heal him with runes, and Magnus needed his energy to get them to safety, then Father Thomas needed to get medical attention quickly. But as soon as he was touched, Father Thomas started screaming.

"No!"

He began thrashing about, speaking incoherently and hissing like a snake.

"I need the Fey," Father Thomas screamed, frantically looking around as if his life depended on seeing a Fey right then.

_The Fey? _Jace quirked his eyebrow, perplexed.

"Does he mean Vixie?" Isabelle asked, looking just as confused as Jace felt.

"Don't know," Jace replied. "Find her just in case." Simon stood quickly and was gone in a flash. Moments later he returned with Vixie in toe.

Almost as if Father Thomas could sense her presence, his eyes flew open and locked onto hers.

"Vixen," Father Thomas panted. "Remember Vixen. You promised."

The rest of the group looked at each other, puzzled . Isabelle glanced at Jace and mouthed 'Vixen' questioningly. Jace just shrugged his shoulders in response.

Vixie stood dumbfounded, but there was also something hidden beneath. She almost looked panicked and Jace began to question whether there was more behind Father's ramblings.

He watched intently as Vixie knelt down beside the dying man. She placed her closed right fist over the left side of her chest, right above her heart and bowed her head slightly: a sign of understanding and renewed promises.

Father Thomas nodded in return and smiled. He let out a contented sigh as he closed his eyes, and breathed no more.

"What the hell was that about?" Isabelle asked Vixie, but the faerie stayed kneeled by Father Thomas's body, her eyes fixed onto the priest's stilled face, silent.

After several moments, Vixie placed her right hand, that had been resting over her heart, onto the priest's chest. She mumbled several words under her breath, then bowed her head minutely.

"Ave atque vale, Heaven's Prophet," Maryse spoke softly, placing her right fist over her chest. Isabelle and Jace mirrored her actions. It was a sign of great respect to receive the Shadowhunter's Blessing, and even more so for a person of mundane birth. But Father Thomas was everything but mundane, and he'd earn the words of respect over tenfold.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They'd arrived arrived at the Institute moments later, landing precariously inside the vacant Infirmary. Simon had helped Alec carry the priest's body through the portal; they couldn't leave him there, left to the mercy of anyone who'd come looking after them, so they'd decided to take him back to the Institute and let the Silent Brothers come and retrieve his body.

Vixie had carried Maia once again over her shoulders effortlessly. Magnus had helped Maryse with Jocelyn, while Isabelle followed closely behind Jace carrying Clary tightly.

The unconscious were placed upon the white sheeted Infirmary beds quickly. Once Magnus's arms were free, he pulled a piece of paper off the nearby desk and scribbled a quick note, then drew a small rune on the back. He snapped his fingers, causing a small spark to form and catch the paper on fire. The note disappeared into ash, effectively sending the message magically to his fellow healer. Seconds later, a small ball of fire ignited in mid-air, giving birth to a small wadded piece of paper. Magnus picked it up quickly and unrolled it.

"He'll be here shortly," Magnus replied after reading the message.

Maryse nodded in affirmation, then let out a big sigh as she looked at the people around her, everyone's tired eyes fixed on her.

"I think its best if we all stayed here tonight," she addressed them, not really making eye contact with anyone in particular. She felt needlessly guilty that they'd found themselves in this situation. There must have been something that she'd overlooked that found them to be trapped like rats, vulnerably.

Everyone nodded in agreement to her statement. Everyone but Vixie.

She coughed softly, getting the attention to shift to her effectively.

"I need to go," she said quietly, staring at the ground nervously. Everyone looked at her incredulously.

"No," Maryse stated firmly. "It's not safe. What if someone's outside watching the Institute?" Vixie shook her head in defiance.

"It doesn't matter," she replied, adamant. "I need to go to my Queen. She needs to know what happened."

There were several moments of silence as everyone looked at Vixie disbelievingly. Jace finally broke the silence.

"What did Father Thomas mean when he said that you'd promised? What did you promise?"

"I can't tell you that," Vixie responded softly.

"The hell you can't," Isabelle retorted, approaching Vixie swiftly. "We need to know the truth. The whole truth, _Vixen_." Isabelle sneered the last, obviously annoyed that there were secrets that the faerie was pervied to. She was sick of the deceit and wanted to get to the bottom of it.

Vixie's eyes flashed to Isabelle's, and for one second, they were filled with seething rage, but they softened just a quickly to mirror reluctance and guilt. Vixie stood silently for several moments, her eyes locked onto Isabelle's.

"Not now," she replied firmly. When Isabelle tried to argue, Vixie cut her off quickly. "I promise all will be revealed, but I need to speak to my Queen first." She looked beseechingly at Isabelle and then at Maryse, willing them to understand without asking more questions she couldn't answer. Maryse nodded stiffly, giving her reluctant permission for Vixie to leave. Vixie nodded back, gratitude in her eyes. She gave a small smile to her comrades and left quickly down the hallway.

The rest of them were quiet for a few moments more, all of them appraising each other's injuries and contemplating the events of the night. It'd been a long, exhausting day, filled with revelation, challenge and death. They were all exhausted and needing some rest.

The large bells of the Institute resounded several moments later, signaling someone had arrived. Maryse and Magnus excused themselves to invite the guest inside.

Jace sat on the edge of Clary's bed, wiping her sweaty brow and whispering his love to her softly. Maia still laid unconscious, but was beginning to stir minutely. Alec was sitting on a chair exhausted, his head in his hands.

Isabelle turned to Simon and motioned for him to follow her. Once they were in the hallway, she grabbed his hand and led him towards her bedroom. Tonight, she wanted nothing more then to be with him, no matter where it was. She knew they were both very tired, so she figured that a long rest in her massive king sized bed was just what they needed.

Isabelle paused outside her door and turned to Simon. What she saw then took her by surprise. Simon's eyes were hooded and filled with lust. They way he looked at her sparked her insides into a undulating wave of passion and want. His intense stare filled her with sudden nerves and anticipation as she fumbled with the handle. Once she was able to get the damn door open, she stumbled into her bedroom, all while fixed on Simon's hooded eyes. Simon followed her looking like a lion stalking his prey. He shut the door behind them quickly and locked it.

Isabelle swallowed nervously. This was uncharted territory for her; she'd usually been the dominant one the bedroom, chasing after her conquests and taking charge. But the feeling of someone coming after her for a change excited her immensely. She had a sudden carnal urge to rip his clothes off his body quickly and consume him entirely.

And the fact that it was Simon who sparked this kind of primal impulse fueled her even further. She approached Simon quickly, her mouth locking onto his in a feverous kiss. Their lips and tongues fought for dominance, moving in synchronization as their hands began pulling at unwanted clothing.

In the heat of passion, Simon's fangs unsheathed themselves slightly, producing small cuts to form on Isabelle's tongue and lips. A small amount of her blood entered his mouth and he moaned at the taste of it.

It was like nothing else he'd ever tasted, like the best wine mixed with a bit of Heaven. It was almost like her blood was made specifically for him to consume.

The passion and need between them increase exponentially as Simon's venom entered into her system through the minute cuts on her mouth, and her blood filled him.

Isabelle quickly flung Simon's tattered shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest beneath. She placed both palms on his chest as she attacked his mouth once more, trailing her hands down to the rounded muscles of his abdomen.

Simon began tearing at Isabelle's clothing, successfully ripping her shirt completely into shreds that fell heavily to the ground. He made short work of her black laced strapless corset, tossing it to the ground and admiring her ample breasts as they sprung into view.

"Beautiful," Simon whispered reverently as one of his hands trailed over her peaked flesh as the other arm was wrapped around her lower back, holding her steady as she began to fall apart at the feeling. Isabelle moaned as he came into contact with her pert nipples, circling it and pinching it softly. The sound sent a jolt of excitement through Simon. He wanted to hear it again, over and over; and he'd do anything to make her moan like that once more.

Isabelle's back arched as Simon's mouth enveloped her soft pink tip, pushing her body closer to where she wanted it to be. Simon's tongue flicked over her peak over and over again, eliciting soft moans to pour from Isabelle's fevered lips. His fangs scrapped along the soft skin, causing several small cuts to appear. Her sweet nectar met his tongue and it sent him into a whirlwind of lust. The cuts didn't hurt her at all. The power of his venom overshadowed any discomfort she would've experienced as it entered her system. The effects of it made her body sing with want and need. His every touch was amplified, and Isabelle could feel the familiar warmth in her lower abdomen beginning to build as he trailed his hand down her chest and to the button of her pants. With a quick motion, he flicked her button open and her pants were pooled around her ankles, revealing the black laced cheekies she had underneath.

Simon stared at her slack jawed for a second or two, reveling in the sheer beauty that stood before him. Isabelle felt amazing in that moment, knowing what the mere sight of her did for him.

Their mouths locked together once more as Simon backed her towards her bed. Once the edge of it met with Isabelle's knees, she scooted herself back so that she was kneeling on the middle of the bed. Simon stood at the end, looking at her with hunger as he stripped himself of his remaining garments, his large erection springing forth from its entrapment.

Isabelle stared at him heavily as she rubbed her thighs together softly, needing some type of friction between her legs. Simon growled deep in his throat at the sight of it, knowing that she was wet and ready for him.

He crawled onto the bed on all fours towards Isabelle as she pulled her bottom lip between her lip, her eyes hooded. Their mouths found each other once again, while their hands explored feverously at their exposed skin.

Isabelle's hand found Simon's hardened cock and she stroked it several times, causing Simon to growl against her mouth.

"I need you," she whispered as her hands continued to stroke him. Simon placed Isabelle onto her back with one hand behind her neck for support.

He quickly unsheathed her sex from her laced panties and settled himself between her legs, finding her mouth once more.

He positioned himself between her slick slit, putting slight pressure against her heated bundle of nerves. Isabelle moaned, pushing her hips forward to meet him head on.

In an instant, Simon plunged himself deep inside her, and both of them groaned loudly at the contact. He set a fast and steady pace as he pumped in and out of her. Isabelle flung her legs over Simon's shoulders, the new angle allowing him to hit depths inside her that neither had met before.

"Right there," Isabelle gasped. "Oh…ga…Simon." Isabelle could feel the warmth of her impending release growing inside her.

"Fuck," Simon growled as he could feel her soft wall starting to clamp around him. He grabbed her hips tightly and lifted her off the bed slightly, using the leverage to drive into her deeper. "Shit," she growled at the new position, her hands fisted in the bed sheets below her as her orgasm grew closer.

"I'm gunna….ungh," she mumbled as her body started to fall apart. The waves of nirvana enveloped her as her walls spasms around Simon, triggering his own release as she milked his cock successfully.

They both collapsed onto the bed, panting and moaning at the residual euphoria left behind by their climax. Simon pulled Isabelle towards him, wrapping her into his chest and placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

"I love you," he whispered softly.

"I love you too," she responded sweetly.

They both laid there for several minutes, enjoying their post-coital bliss silently. After several minutes, Isabelle began to softly chuckle.

"What so funny?" Simon asked, a smile on his lips.

"I was just thinking," Isabelle responded. "If you hadn't 'marked' me before, you sure as hell did now." Simon looked at her, confused. "You hit places I didn't even know existed before. I'm sure my insides read 'Property of Simon' now."

Simon laughed loudly, throwing his head back in mirth. Isabelle chuckled again, rubbing small circles on Simon's bare chest.

"Iz," Simon asked quietly after several minutes.

"Yeah."

"What if," he began timidly. "What if I have 'marked' you? What would that mean?" Isabelle was quiet for several moments, deep in though.

"It would mean what I've known for a long time," she replied.

"What's that?" he asked, his brow furrowed in worry and guilt.

"That I was meant for you, and I would live the rest of my time on Earth by your side." Simon raised himself onto his elbow and looked at Isabelle fully in the face. He was met with nothing but sincerity and pure love looking back at him. He smiled and bent down to place a soft open mouthed kiss on her lips.

"Damn straight," he whispered against her mouth. Isabelle chuckled softly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**AN:**** I know you've been waiting patiently for Vixie's POV chapter. And I promise I'd planned on posting it several chapters ago. But in true faerie fashion, Vixie had more up her sleeve and her back-story had more relevance than I realized. I had to wait till this chapter was out to tell her story. So, fittingly, the next chapter is entitled 'Vixie' and takes place prior to City of Bones.**

**Voting for TMI fics awards**** closes on **_**Halloween**_**. Link is on my profile. Please vote for your favorites. There are some really good TMI fics that need to be recognized. ****This Story's Fate:**** This story was originally meant to be part of a Triliogy: Sins of the Father, Sins of the Flesh, and Eternal Forgiveness. I'm still planning on finishing this story the way that I'd plotted it out, but not sure if I will continue from there. OR I can make it a really, really long fanfic, like my beta **_**Evil Black Poppies**_** suggests. (*waves to beta from states away*). What do you all think? **

**Thanks for reading. Now, please **_**Review!!!**_


	20. Chapter 19 Vixen

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Chapter 19 - Vixen

She had to get to the Queen.

She couldn't think about the people she was leaving behind, the people she'd come to think of as friends. Their fates were hinged upon the contingency that the _plan_ came to fruition. And with Father Thomas dead…

She had to get to the Queen.

That's all Vixie kept chanting to herself: _get to the Queen, get to the Queen, get to the Queen._

As she left the safety of the Institute, she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. The sun had gone down over New York City, leaving the streets dark, shadowed. The air was cool, laced with anticipation and an uneasy calm. A couple cars hummed down the wet roads, but for the most part, all was quiet.

_Too quiet. _

She stood outside the doorway to the Institute for several minutes, looking along the darkened streets for any sign of movement.

She saw none, but she knew that _he _wasn't that blatantly obvious, that _he'd_ hide better than that. She looked to the skyline, trying to decide the best way to get to the Seelie Court, safe.

_Perhaps the buildings_, she thought.

The idea of using the rooftops as a means of escape seemed like her only logical choice. Surely, he'd have the streets watched. With that, she sprang onto the tall rod-iron gate that surrounded the Institute, walking along the spiked tops like a tight rope walker, but with the speed and accuracy of an alley cat.

When she got to the end of the gate, she jumped into the air, arms stretched out wide reaching for the light post top. She started swinging her body over it several times until she had gained enough momentum to launch herself into the air. Landing on the nearest roof gently as a feline, she paused crouched on all fours for several beats, quiet and listening intently to her surroundings.

Silence.

_Perhaps he's not watching tonight._

She shot up quickly, taking off in an inhumanly fast sprint, her footing sure and light. When she got to the end of the building, she launched herself across the vast distance separating the two buildings from each other, landing on the next rooftop. Over and over again, she would fling her body into the New York skyline, her only destination…home.

She never would've believed that the path chosen for her so long ago would end up like this: death, destruction, hopelessness, anguish, friendship…love.

But she'd given her life away, decided on that fateful day that it was worth sacrificing.

And now, with so much gone and a great deal more at stake, she couldn't find it in herself to regret her decisions. Even as her treacherous fate lied in front of her, threatening to turn on her like the broken thrashing sea, she couldn't find it in her self to take cover and wait out the storm.

It had been several years that she'd known the turmoil was coming, although the specifics had yet to be revealed. She also knew that there were very few players whose parts would determine the outcome and fate of the world as they knew it.

She was one of those players.

What she didn't know was _how _it would happen. No one did.

Save for one.

But he was dead now.

And he took all of his secrets with him.

_But maybe not_, she thought, the sudden reflection pulling her up short. She stopped in her hurried footsteps, a look of confused revelation on her face.

_Maybe the Queen knew this would happen all along. That's why she…_

Vixie took off again in a dead sprint, recalling that crucial day almost two years ago as she ran.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_**Almost two years ago, before City of Bones and before Clary met the Shadow World**_

_Fuck, I hate Mundanes. _

Vixie convinced herself to stay just a couple more minutes, but the smell inside the Pandemonium was getting to her. She'd never figure exactly why she'd agreed to do this, mind numbing torture waiting for _him _to appear like some damn mirage.

Her thoughts flashed back to her meeting with the important players of the Shadow World last week, in the depths of the Seelie Court.

"_You have to stop them, Vixen," _he'd said. "_If they are to meet now, when she is not ready, things will be off kilter and there is no telling what will happen."_

It was her job to make sure that _it _didn't happen, by 'any means necessary'. She smiled gently to herself; hopefully that simple command meant that she'd have enough time alone with the young man. She'd love nothing more then to find a welcome distraction in all this mess; the stress of the impending doom was crushing her like a thousand waves of water, choking her with every thought of what was coming.

From what she discovered during her initial reconnaissance, he was a typical, egotistical Nephilium. He was an exceptional fighter, but was head strong and stubborn. He was also incredibly good looking and used his looks to gain what he could, either for business or pleasure. He'd flirted his way around the Shadow World and used his attraction to his advantage, especially when it came to getting much needed information for a hunt out of some unsuspecting Downworlder.

Vixie didn't associate herself with the Nephilium; she never could stomach their arrogance long enough to find any benefit or appeal. It was with a reluctant pause that she'd agreed to do this favor for the Qeen. Her assignment had been clear: keep them apart, distract him.

That she could do.

She decided she would use their commonalty, sexual attraction, to her benefit; let him think he was getting the upper hand then turn it against him. It would be a sport to her; and she'd be the more skilled player. And she was looking forward to the challenge.

But where was he?

She'd been told that the Shadowhunters would be hunting in the Pandemonium tonight, because they'd been tipped that an Enterly demon was plaguing the unsuspecting mundane clubbers that frequented this Shadow World hot spot.

And Jace Wayland never missed a had they already been here and she'd missed them?

It had been hours that she was subjected to the torture of the mundies sweating and pumping against each other in what they called dancing. It looked like some sort of wretched drug-induced, clothed orgy to her. Nothing she would call sensual…or pleasant for that matter.

And the smell that the humans emanated from their bodies when they were intoxicated and sweaty was nauseating.

_Disgusting._

She watched from her perch on top of a stool at the end of the rounded bar. Besides being an exceptionally good warrior, she also prized her ability to be incredibly observant, even among heavy distraction. She was aware of her surroundings, knowing exactly what the best angles of escape were or where anyone who had looked like any type of threat to her mission was standing at any given time. For example, she could tell where every Downworlder disguised under heavy makeup or glamour was at that very moment. There were three male vampires scoping out the crowd from the balcony that overlooked the dance floor. Two of them she knew personally, and if they weren't careful, they too would be under the strict eye of the Nephilium, for they were staring at a group of mundie girls, salivating at the aroma of their sweet pumping nectar. There was a werewolf who often served as DJ on these nights, at the other end of the bar buying a young lady a deep red drink. There were several Warlocks painted and pounding their bodies together on the dance floor. And just a couple moments ago, two faeries had led each other into the back room for a private moment together. But what she hadn't seen was the Nephilium.

No, just plenty of Mundanes.

The fact that these humans remained so oblivious to the war that raged around them was pathetic. If they only knew the amount of danger they were in at any given point, especially lately, with things in the Shadow World coming to a boiling point…

_Won't be long now, _she thought idly as she stirred her pink cocktail with a tiny white straw. A prop. She didn't drink the human vile they called alcohol.

"Hey gorgeous," a tall, handsome man sloshed himself on the stool next to Vixie, smelling like stale cigarettes and booze. "Your hot. What's your name, beautiful?"

Vixie ignored him, keeping her eyes focused on scanning her surroundings. This wasn't the first mundie man who'd approached her that evening, far from it. Even an over zealous lesbian had asked her for a dance. That one she'd actually contemplated. It'd been awhile since she'd been with a woman, and they'd proven to be selfless lovers, very passionate and… giving.

But she was working and regretfully turned the gorgeous blonde down.

However, this mundie boy was persistent and entertaining to say the least. She laughed quietly to her self as she watched the man puff out his chest like a rooster out of her peripheral vision.

_Please,_ Vixie silently mused, rolling her eyes pointedly at the smelling boy next to her. She smiled slightly, knowing that if this pathetic boy knew what she was, that she was a Fey, he wouldn't be so inclined to take her home. The term sexual slave was not just a momentary pillow-talk love name; it's what they Fey specialize in: the art of seduction and entrapment. She'd have him begging before long, either for death or for sex, it mattered little to her. But he'd be pleading in the end, and then she'd decide which to give him. She chuckled softly at her inner musings, causing the young man beside her to feel as if he'd had a sporting chance with her. He placed his hand on her lower back, right above her ass and started rubbing her exposed skin there lightly. Vixie's yellow eyes flashed to the boy's arm quickly in disbelief, liking nothing more than to severe it from his measly body.

_If only I wasn't working. _She resolved to 'gently' grab his wrist and physically remove his offensive flesh from her proximity. The boy winced in pain.

She got up quickly from her perch, completely ignoring the drunkards garbled pleas while she scanned the immediate area impatiently, searching for her target.

_Where the fuck is he?_

Her skillful eyes scanned the sea of thumping bodies on the small dance floor, hoping that she'd find him among the crowd before she'd have to go back to her Queen, empty handed. She didn't want to think about what it would mean if she failed tonight. If things didn't go according to plan. The outcome of that would be…catastrophic.

Or so she was told, over and over again like she was a toddler learning to keep her hands off the hot stove. She got it, she just didn't know if she truly believed it. After all, she'd never seen an Angel and didn't know anyone who had.

And yet, the priest's warnings couldn't be ignored. If there was a faint truth behind his visions…

Vixie shuttered internally, focusing her inner musings on her present mission. _Keep him away from her._

Seemed simple enough.

A slow rhythmic beat started moving through the club, and the atmosphere seemed to change with it. A cool pink lighting cast over the dance floor as an audible moan of approval from the partiers flittered over the room. Several dancers joined the throbbing bodies out in the cesspool, while others made their way to the bar, effectively causing a shift in the crowd. There he was, right in Vixie's line of sight.

_Jace Wayland._

He was a god in Earthly form; golden hair, ripped body to die for. The rumors of his beauty did not do him justice. He was delectable, delicious from head to toe. And Vixie was struck by him.

His dark jeans fit him perfectly, hugging his ass and accentuating…other parts. He wore a deep green button down with the sleeves rolled, revealing his well muscled forearms. The skin there was marked, looking like tribal tattoos to the common eye, but Vixie recognized them as the Markings of the watched him dancing, moving his hips slowly to the music. She could tell that he knew she was watching him, because she would catch him positioning himself so that he could keep tabs on her through his peripheral vision. He didn't trust her.

_As well he shouldn't,_ she thought coolly. He was well-trained, a born Nephilium and not a fool.

Nothing got past him…nothing.

An fervent ball of apprehension festered inside Vixie's stomach, thinking of how she would pull this off: the distraction. She watched him carefully, pulling every detail that she could from his demeanor.

_Was he here alone_? She didn't see any other Nephilium present, and they rarely hunted alone. Maybe he wasn't here for business, but for pleasure. _Pleasure_. He seemed to like indulgence, judging by the way he was groping the small blonde mundane girl he was dancing with. She could tell he liked attention; every woman in this joint was scoping him out, eye fucking him to the point he'd have a communicable disease just from the purely sinful things they'd imagine he could do to their bodies. The way he moved was mesmerizing, accentuating his well toned body to the best advantage and enjoyment of those who greedily watched him.

_Yes, he's here for pleasure. _

But maybe not.

Jace's attention was minutely diverted from the overly eager blonde mundie girl to a dark corner where an Enterly demon had sleeked in, just by a flicker of his eyes, too minute for a mere human to see. But Vixie could tell that was where is true focus lie; to the Enterly: a horridly evil and dastardly breed of filth who thrived on luring unsuspecting mundies to torture and pain through lust and gluttony. Pure evil, one of the true wrongs of this world; and a strong enemy of the Nephilium.

Jace continued to dance with the mundie girl, running his fingers along the sides of her waist, grazing the slight bulge of her breast as his hand passes, eliciting a small moan from the young girl.

But that's not where his concentration was centered. He watched the Enterly approach a small group of prepubescent boys underneath the balcony, where the shadows were thick enough to hide them from unwanted observation. The boys seemed to be enthralled with the demon, listening intently to whatever filth he was spewing.

Vixie looked back to Jace just in time to see his eyes shift from her and back to the Enterly.

_He caught me,_ Vixie chuckled inwardly. _He knows he has an audience now. _

Jace was effectively keeping the mundie girl distracted with his hands and the movements of his well-skilled hips. She was eating up his 'attention', unaware that it was completely diverted to the demon in the darkened corner.

Vixie scanned the area quickly, looking for Jace's fellow Shadowhunters but finding none.

_Surely he wasn't here alone. _But from all that she knew of him, that would be exactly like him, to take on a hunt alone. He was nothing if not daring and she could see him potentially working himself into a corner that he couldn't get out of.

_I will have to watch this one closely, _she mused.

Vixie looked back to Jace, but was surprised to find him missing from where he was last. The blonde mundie girl was in the same spot, dancing with another mundie boy, probably oblivious to the fact that Jace had ditched his dance with her to pursue something of greater interest.

The Enterly.

Vixie whipped her head back to the darkened corner of the club, just in time to see Jace throw a well-aimed Sai blade at the demons head. It found purchase right above the demons ear, protruding deep into its melon-shaped skull. Within seconds, the demon was reduced to a pile of molten ash.

But the demon was not alone. Another Enterly approached Jace from behind, claws and teeth barred. And Jace was unaware. She didn't have time to contemplate and scarcely had a second to react. Vixie grabbed her golden, sharpened disc from within her jacket and sent it whizzing through the air. It sliced through the demon's neck, effectively decapitating it, sending it into the next realm as the group of boys seemed to be awakened from a trance of some sorts. Vixie turned to look at Jace, who in turn found her eyes and smiled at her. She nodded minutely and he returned the gesture.

_A warrior indeed. _They shared that trait as well. Perhaps that is where they'd find their commonality.

Jace meandered over to the end of the bar, a certain swagger to his walk that Vixie didn't take as being arrogant or for show. His gait just seemed his own, to simply be _Jace Wayland_. And Vixie found herself pulled into his aura.

Jace took a seat at the last barstool, the same one Vixie had vacated only moments before. He nodded his head slightly to the bartender and within seconds a tall bottled beer was handed to him. Vixie silently took the seat next to him, her abandoned pink cocktail sat between them. "You gunna drink that?" Jace asked, motioning to her forgotten drink.

_How long was he watching me? _Vixie shook her head in response.

"They're getting bolder you know," Jace mused into his beer, his eyes fixed on the granite counter top. Vixie watched him for a couple minutes, not really understanding what he was saying. Jace looked at her and caught her look of confusion.

"The demons," he clarified. "They're getting braver."

"As are the Nephilium, I see," she answered softly. "It is rare that you see a hunter on his own."

"One Enterly demon is hardly a challenge for me," he replied, shaking his head in nonchalance. "The pathetic creature didn't even know I was here until my blade slammed into its skull," he chuckled, pulling his beer up to his lips and taking a long pull.

"But the other?" Vixie asked smugly, one eyebrow cocked it question.

"That, my dear, was a challenge for you," he answered blandly. "A test, if you will." Vixie stood silent, dumbfounded at his nerve.

"I often wonder if the Downworlders can handle their own when faced with evil. I see that you are up to the challenge."

"We've been fighting demons just as long as you, Shadowhunter," Vixie retorted, not trying to conceal the irritation in her voice. Was he really trying to test her all along? Why? Surely, he wouldn't be that stupid. What if she hadn't noticed the other demon approaching. As if he'd read her mind, he began again.

"I knew he was there," he answered her silent question fully. "I would've killed him if you hadn't reacted in time. Your offensive is quick." He meant it as a compliment, she was sure, but she couldn't get over the fact that he felt it prudent to test her. She was a Downworlder, not some Shadowhunter in training. Who did he think he was?

"I'm sure you would have, Nephilium," Vixie sneered in distaste. "But what if I would've rather seen you die then save you from that filth. What would you've learned then, hmmm?"

Jace set down his beer, clanking it on the rough stone of the bar. He was deep in thought for several seconds, as if he was trying to weigh exactly what he wanted to say.

"I would've known what I always have," he answered finally. "That the Nephilium are alone the this battle of the worlds. And the Downworlders sit idly by, reaping the benefits of the peace and quiet we offer through bloodshed and tears." Jace turned to Vixie, meeting her eyes full on. "I was happy to be proven wrong for once."

Vixie met his gaze full on, looking into each eye to see if she could find the sincerity behind his words. It surprised to find exactly that, sincerity and honesty behind his eyes.

He turned, facing the crowd on the dance floor, his back resting against the hard granite. Vixie mirrored his actions. They were silent for several moments, both watching the Mundanes and Downworlders enjoy the night. Finally, Vixie approached him again.

"Do you ever wonder how they can be so naïve?"

"Who? The Mundies or the Downworlders?" he asked, a crooked smile teasing his lips.

"Both, I guess," Vixie conceded. Although her kind was well informed of the current events that plagued this world, most Downworlders refused to acknowledge the threat. It would all change soon and Vixie was tempted to state as such. But with things being cordial at best with the Nephilium, Vixie decided to halt that avenue of conversation for now, sticking to the mission at hand.

_Keep him away. _

"They have no reason to know," Jace replied, pulling Vixie back into the conversation. "It's not supposed to be that way. We fight the evil and they go about life oblivious." There was a hint of malcontent in Jace's tone of voice, and Vixie could sympathize with his frustration. She imagined it would be hard to serve your life to save others from death and torment, only for it to go unacknowledged. But such was the life of sacrifice, and she knew that life all too well.

Jace and Vixie sat in companionable silence for several minutes, each quietly musing over their own thoughts. It seemed that her mission was going to be successful without a hitch and without the need for her planned seduction. She'd hoped that the chase would be more entertaining, but she found her self strangely enjoying the comfortable silence between them. The unspoken acknowledgement of a raging battle they were both active players in acted like a warm blanket of ….friendship? She didn't understand it, but the feeling was not all that unwelcome as she imagined it would be.

Suddenly, Vixie noticed that Jace's attention had peaked. His eyes were fixed to the middle of the dance floor. Vixie, curious, decided to follow his line of sight. She thought perhaps he'd discovered another demon lurking among the unsuspecting dancers, or that perhaps her vampire friends have overstepped their boundaries and approached one of their prey. What she didn't expected to see what an awkwardly plain mundie girl dancing with a peculiar gangly mundie boy.

There wasn't anything special about her, except that she had rich shade of thick auburn hair. Her body was slender and lacking in womanly curves, but the way she moved that body while she danced held Vixie's interest.

And Jace's too, apparently.

The girl wore a short purple and black plaid skirt, knee high Doc boots and a netted tank over a purple three quarter sleeved shirt. Not too sensual but enough to peak the interests of several strung-out boys in the area. The boy she was with watched her moving intently, only lifting his gaze to stare daggers at anyone who dared to look at her suggestively. _The mundie boy's protective of this girl. _

And she was still simply that…a girl. And although she hadn't developed her womanly charm, Vixie knew that in a couple of years, it would find her and the girl would be remarkable.

Jace was simply entranced by her; he sat there, unmoving for several minutes just staring at her dancing with the overly protective, bespectacled boy. Vixie wondered why she held so much attraction for him and she started to feel a twinge of jealousy. After all, she was far more attractive then the plain, simple girl and he hadn't given her a second glance.

'_Keep him away from her". _The warning and order echoed in her head.

_Her? _It couldn't be. She was nothing if not normal. The person Vixie was supposed to keep him from was rumored to be a Shadowhunter, a legend in her own right. But this girl was plainly a mundane, lacking any Markings or scars that would tell she was of Nephilium blood. She couldn't see the Shadow World, substantiation by her complete oblivion to the two faerie couple dancing beside her.

She had been warned that his attraction to the girl would be immediate. That their subconscious would recognize each other because they were destined to be together, all part of the 'Omnipotent Something-or-other'. But the force of it took Vixie by surprise, especially since the girl was so young.

_It couldn't be…_

But it was. Evidenced by Jace's sudden powerful obsession with her as she watched her was enthralled and Vixie had to move quickly if she were to succeed. "Hey, where you off to?" she asked quickly as Jace sprang from his seat, eyes remaining fixed on the dancing mundie girl.

"Umm…" was all he replied, never really acknowledging Vixie's question. It was almost as if an invisible tractor beam had set its sights on him, pulling him towards the girl with the force of ten gravitational pulls. And Vixie had to throw herself in its path.

Thinking quickly, Vixie plunged her hand into her shirt pocket and pulled out a purple colored vile. Inside was a potion that she planned to use only in desperate measures. Although she was part of the Fey, she hated trickery in its purest form: deceit through forgery and illusion. But if she had to, she would use it when the circumstances were dire.

And they were so now. She grabbed Jace's abandoned beer and emptied the contents inside. She swirled the bottle around a couple of turns to insure the potion disappeared to it tasteless, colorless form. She acted quickly, stepping into Jace's retreating path and shoving the half-full beer into his chest. "Hey Nephilium," Vixie hurried, raising her pink concoction in the air. "A toast to the battle at hand. May the Angel smile upon you as you hunt in His name." Jace was momentarily pulled from the dancing girl as he stared at the brown bottle shoved roughly into his chest. Jace looked up to Vixie and for a moment, she thought that he would tell her to fuck off. But as luck would have it, he seemed to take the gesture as a significant union between two warriors of battle and downed the bottle in one. The effect was instantaneous and Vixie cringed as he set his 'new eyes' on her. She knew that to Jace, Vixie would have taken on the appearance of the red-haired mundane girl. It was the Potion of Heart's Desire that she'd put into the bottle, leaving the victim to see only what he truly wanted. Vixie looked like the red-haired girl, and now she knew that Jace would follow her to the ends of the earth if she so chose. And Vixie felt sick. She hated playing him like this.

_This warrior deserved better, _she thought numbly. But it was what she needed to do to save him, to save herself, to save mankind from annihilation.

"Hi," she crooned sweetly, a twinge of guilt poking sharply at her chest as she watched a broad smile curve Jace's lips.

"Hi," he whispered back. Vixie placed her palms flat on Jace's muscular chest, looking up at him through her lashes. As if by instinct, Jace's arms curved around Vixie's small waste, resting right above the curve of her bottom. He held her tight, he held her close, as they both stared at each other. For the next several hours, Vixie became more acquainted with Jace under the guise that she was the object of his primal attraction. They talked, laughed, shared their life stories and danced until the early morning hours. When the Pandemonium had shut its doors for the night, Vixie led an all too willing Jace back to her place, where they spent the entire night lying in her bed, their naked bodies intertwined. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two months had passed since that night in the Pandemonium and Vixie had hardly left his side.

She had been wrapped up in a pretend fantasy world with Jace, trying to keep him occupied and distant from the mundie girl.

But in reality, Vixie never would've thought that she could care so much for him.

In her time with him, Vixie had found that he was quiet caring, loving in fact. He'd shared with her the deepest parts of his soul, confiding in her his hearts wishes and desires. She'd learned that he wanted to be a father someday, wanting to give a child the love and stability that he felt he was lacking in so many ways. He told her of the love he felt for his pseudo-parents and siblings, saying that they'd given him so much in this world that he'd thought he'd never find again. He spoke of his unwavering respect and admiration he had for a man named Hodge, whom he saw as an uncle-type figure. His little make-shift family was odd, but it was his and he cherished it completely.

He told her of his fears for this world, and how being a Shadowhunter was a trying way of life, but one he was dedicated to and proud to be a part of.

He'd told her of the tragic death of his father when he was ten and how he'd come to live with the Lightwoods. He'd told her of his pet falcon and how his father had killed his beloved pet in order to teach him obedience. She listened to him everyday they shared her bed, wrapped up in each other like life long lovers.

And it killed her. Because it wasn't real. And these thoughts he shared were not meant for her, but meant for the red-haired girl_. _For he still believed that she was the mundie girl…Clary, was her name, Vixie found out later. But she could never bring herself to tell him that her name was Clary. He called her Vixie, not knowing that the name didn't match the face he was seeing, the face of Clary.

She felt a strange form of jealousy towards this girl, because she wanted those thoughts and feeling that Jace shared with her to be for her, for Vixie. More so, the sweet touches and caresses, the soft moans as he made love to Vixie, thinking all along that she was someone else entirely: his Heavenly Betrothed.

But she knew they weren't. When he spoke her name in the middle of lovemaking, it was _her _image that brought him that pleasure, not Vixie's. And she felt sick for betraying him. And she felt guilty for taking him from Clary. And she felt ashamed for enjoying whatever moments she could have with him. And she felt terrified that their snapshot in time would soon be coming to an end.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"You swore an oath to me Alexan," an angry female voice cried. Vixie remained hidden in the shadows. She'd been called to the Court only moments ago, leaving a naked and wanting Jace behind in her lair, waiting for her…for 'Clary' to return.

"By keeping him here, you have betrayed the Clave. Do you really want that mess on your hands?"

"Maryse," the Seelie Queen's silkily sweet voice replied. "I am not under such obligation to return anything or anyone to you who is here freely of his own will."

"You bitch," another hoarse and clearly angry female voice echoed down the corridor where Vixie stay hidden. "Let my brother go or so help me I will kill you here and now."

"Isabelle," the other female chastised.

"No, let her speak," the Queen's voice interrupted. "By all means child, let me here what you plan on doing to me whilst you are surrounded by my guards and kinsmen." There was silence for several beats.

"Now," the Queen continued. "Let me see if I remember such a human in servitude for any of my Fey. What did you say his name was again?"

"Jace," the one named Maryse hissed between, what Vixie imagined, clenched teeth.

"Ah yes," the Queen sang sweetly. "I think I remember him now. Vixie, would you come here please?" she called softly and Vixie pulled herself from her hidden sanctuary. She knew her time with him was coming to a closure and she'd been mentally trying to prepare herself for the inevitable. But still, with the end right in front of her, she hoped that she could try and convince him to stay. She wanted him to stay.

Vixie entered the Court in her silken robe. She was naked underneath it, evidenced by the wide opening and deep V cut of the cloth. They'd just finished making love, it was true, but the robe served more of a rouse, or proof that Jace had been her sex slave and nothing more. She'd know better. She'd always know that there was more between them than just sex.

"Vixie," the Queen addressed her now. "Have you a boy of servitude that answers to the name of Wayland?"

The room was quiet with anticipation of her response. Vixie took that moment to take in her surroundings. There was a strikingly beautiful but cold looking woman standing tense in front of her Queen. Next to her was a smaller, younger version of the first, only this one didn't have her anger under control like the other. The younger one was raging, seething at Vixie as she stood there faking nonchalance.

Inside, Vixie's heart was breaking. There wasn't a chance in hell they weren't leaving without Jace.

Her time was up.

And it crushed her to admit it.

"Yes, my Queen," Vixie answered unashamed, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgment.

"Give him back," the young girl screamed. Maryse held out her hand to the younger girl's chest in attempt to keep the her calm. Vixie cringed minutely, not because she was afraid of the young Shadowhunter, far from it. Only because those words were the ones that plagued her dreams at night as she laid curled next to Jace's warm body.

_Give him back._

Vixie turned her eyes to the Seelie Queen, hoping that she'd find resolve behind those eyes, giving her silent permission to keep him just a little longer. But there was nothing but remorse and compassion behind her Queen's eyes. She alone knew of Vixie's inner torment, that she'd fallen for the young Nephilium during his months of entrapment. And the Queen knew that Vixie had sacrificed so much more then her life during that time, but had sacrificed her heart to the cause, for it was breaking as she had to give him back; and she felt as if she'd never fully recover from it.

Vixie nodded in acquiescence, thereby allowing two faerie knights to enter her chamber to obtain Jace from his 'prison'.

Moments later he was brought out, his gaze fell to Maryse and Isabelle quickly. He started to look panicked as the illusion began to wear off, now that he was out of the confinements of Vixie's bedroom. He looked around himself quickly as his eyes widened in disbelief.

"Where am I?" he asked huskily, the smooth fabric of his bed pants draping around his figure suggestively. Maryse quickly took off her long thick trench coat and placed it around Jace's wide shoulders, for concealment rather then for protection against the chill in the air.

"You've been in enslavement, Jace," Maryse answered calmly. Vixie could see tears forming at the edge of the young girl's eyes as she watched her 'brother' carefully.

"Did she harm you?" Isabelle asked roughly. Jace looked over his body quickly, shaking his head slightly as if to rid himself of the fog that clouded his memory. He lifted his eyes to Vixie, his confused and slightly terrified gaze bore into her soul. She mentally cringed from the power of it, and she felt like her insides were being torn apart as she watched the hurt and fear swirl uncontrollably behind his eyes.

"I don't remember," he answered softly, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. It would kill Vixie to know that he'd never remember their time together, for it was a side effect from the potion she'd been giving him for over two months now. But she'd remember, every second that they'd shared would forever be entombed in her heart, whether he'd have any recollection or not.

"I expect a full apology of this Coven, Alexan," Maryse spoke sternly, her eyes fierce and her mouth pursed in a firm line.

"But of course," the Queen acknowledge, bowing her head softly as if she was humbled by a grave mistake on her part. "If I'd have known we held a Nephilium in our mist, I would've accredited that fact sooner."

"We've been down here everyday for the last six weeks, you evil bitch," Isabelle spat, pulling her arm away from her mother's lackadaisical grasp. There was a whispered disapproval of the girl's harsh words, but it went unacknowledged upon besides that.

Maryse turned to Isabelle, giving her a warning glare that silenced the avid girl for the time being.

"Let's get him home," Maryse mumbled, making her way to leave. Isabelle guided Jace towards the exit, but not before giving Vixie a look that could rival Medusa's. Vixie smiled unashamedly at the girl, then turned to make her escape back to her chamber.

"Vixen," the Queen called, stopping Vixie's mournful retreat back to her room. She turned back to the Queen, seeing that the Court was emptying as the Queen gestured for her to sit on the plush chair before her.

Reluctantly, Vixie obeyed the Queens command. At that moment, she didn't feel like company or discussing her inner musing. She only wanting to delve into her planned depression that she knew would envelope her for a long time to come without Jace's presence.

"Vixen," the Queen began again. "I know that your heart is aching." Vixie didn't acknowledge this, only stared at the floor with a blank expression on her face. She'd resolved that no one else would be witness to her torment. She'd save it for herself, look at it as her penance for lying to Jace for so long. She'd suffer it alone, just as she should.

"You did what was needed to be done," the Queen reassured her. It was futile, for it didn't matter why she'd done it. Even if the cause wasn't noble, she wasn't sure she would've traded that time with him for anything in the world. She'd treasure the moments she'd spent in her own personal heaven, wrapped in Jace's arms with only his naked body for warmth.

"Did she see him?" the Queen asked.

"Not that I could tell," Vixie answered softly.

"She didn't," a low female voice answered from behind Vixie. She turned to see a beautiful older woman behind her, a Nephilium. She looked familiar and Vixie couldn't remember if she'd seen her before or not. Surely, if she were here and knew of Vixie's deceit, then she must have been of importance, for only those who'd have important roles to play in the end knew of the plan. Not just anyone was pervied to that information.

"Are you certain," the Queen asked the woman again.

"Yes," the woman answered reassured, more firmly this time. "Even if she'd had, she has seen Magnus since that time. Her mind has been clouded once again." The Queen nodded in understanding. Vixie looked upon the woman more closely now. Her features where sharp, angular, and held a strong appeal to them. Her skin was laced with tiny scares, evidence of the Markings of battle. But it was her hair that she'd recognized. It was that same deep shade of auburn that the Clary's held.

_Surely, it couldn't be_.

"Jocelyn," a smooth male voice sounded from Vixie's other side. The woman turned towards the newcomer. Vixie recognized this man, for he'd recruited her for this mission in the first place.

Father Thomas, the Clairvoyant.

"It won't be longer now," he addressed the auburn-haired woman. She nodded in realization, a smooth round tear falling down her perfect cheek.

"Do you have your potion ready?" the priest asked her. She nodded once again.

"Good," he smiled softly. "It should keep you asleep until Ragnor Fell can reverse it."

"Promise me that you will look after her," the woman's voice trembled slightly. The priest's eyes softened at her apparent emotion.

"I will. You know that. I always do," he answered her, bringing his arm up to rub her cheek softly. "She will not be alone. It is time for them to meet. He will never leave her side, you have to have faith in that."

"I know," the woman mumbled, stifling a sob as she shifted her eyes to the ground. "It's just hard. Why her?"

"It was chosen long ago, my child," the priest answered, knowingly. "The pieces are falling into place, and we are merely pawns for Him to maneuver. Have faith in the Omnipotent Design."

"Yes," the woman whispered, a silent tear running down her cheek.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**AN: There is a sneak peek on the SOTF thread (link on profile) for the next chapter. I'm sure you all want to know why Jocelyn was plotting with the Queen, Vixie, and Father Thomas to keep Clary/Jace apart. All will be revealed in the next couple of chapters. **


	21. Chapter 20 Confession

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved ****worldwide.**

***Warning: Content is violent in nature. You've been warned***

***Lemon Warning: If you're not old enough, then peace out now!***

Chapter 20 - Confession 

Pain

Unbelievable, excruciating pain.

She couldn't figure out what had happened or even form a coherent though against the pain raging through her body. She tried to look around her to get a barring on her surroundings, but her vision was blurred and tunneled.

And the pain was agony.

She began to explore her body with her fingertips, to see if she could decipher where the throbbing was coming from. Her arms seemed to be uninjured and intact, as were her neck and head. She slowly trailed her fingers down her chest. She could feel her heart thudding underneath her breastbone, fast and irregular.

The pain sharpened as she traveled down towards her stomach. When her fingers found that her torso had been detached from the rest of her body right below her diaphragm, Katia cringed.

_That Angel bitch…_

The events that'd proceeded Katia's current condition started becoming sharply clear to her. She'd failed, the Angel girl had escaped, and Katia laid on the floor bleeding and dying at Clary's hand.

_Damn her._

Katia was filled with a vengeful rage as she panted and sweated on the cold marble floor; the adrenaline inside her served as fuel for her fury. She let it build inside her, feeling it pump in her overworked and tired heart. She centered it and wielded it, letting it grow until all her remaining life-force was focused in combination with her fury and rage. She began to speak in tongues, a forgotten and evil language only used by those who served in Babylon. Those who'd served an ancient demon, the most powerful.

Her lavender eyes turned fuchsia as the raw energy built inside her veins. The edges of her severed body glowed a faint hint of pink, sparkling along the edges. In one final stanza, a bright flash sparked from her face, and her body became one once more.

Katia rose to her feet, shaking from the adrenaline and power still resonating inside her. She took in her surroundings, gulping loudly as she looked upon her fallen lovers' broken and bleeding bodies. Both men were in similar shape Katia had found herself in: severed in two from the waist down.

Merchante was dead, his face and body were paled and still, his remains lay in a puddle of deep red liquid. Verculis was gasping for breath, his widened eyes stared out in front of him, blindly. The torn nerves of his body caused the top half to twitch uncontrollably as a strong seizure clenched his muscles. The bottom half of him laid flaccid on the ground as his blood poured from the large wounds.

She approached him quickly and knelt before him. She began to pull the energy around her and centered herself once more. It was harder this time, without the impending self-doom that'd threatened her the last time. She tried to focus on the feelings she had for the broken, bleeding man before her. She wasn't capable of love; her heart was too diseased with hate, greed, and evil for such a pure emotion. But she cared for him, as much as anyone in her condition could feel for another person. And she felt strong lust for him as well. It wasn't much, but it was all she had to work with to aide her.

She grasped hands with the dying Warlock, chanting and humming as she rocked back on her heels. Much like she had before, she channeled the energy that radiated from the hate and rage inside of her, wielding it into her heart until it was a concentrated, solid sphere of power. The atmosphere hummed as her eyes changed once again. The edges of Verculis torn body began to glow slightly, a faint shade of fuchsia. In a flash much like the one that'd healed her, Verculis was made whole once more. But his body still laid unmoving. Katia reached her hand up to wipe the sweat from her lover's brow.

"Verc, darling," she crooned sweetly. "My love, awaken." His mouth began to move slightly, as if he was whispering a silent prayer, but his eyes had remained wide and unfocused. Katia stayed many moments on the floor next to him, trying to comfort him, trying to decipher her next move, trying to decide how best to get even with that Angel whore.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been two days since the fight at St. Patrick's Cathedral, and things were more tense around the Institute than ever before. They'd all agreed to stay put inside the Institute, for safety and the chance to regroup. All but Vixie remained and the Institute seemed to be waiting on pins and needles for her return.

As soon as she was able, Maryse had left the Infirmary where Maia, Clary and Jocelyn were recovering from battle, for the library in order to contact Luke and Robert. She'd needed them home as soon as possible to help her deal with the aftermath of everything that'd occurred.

Luke and Robert had arrived shortly after, and Luke had been beside himself with anxiety when he'd been told the 'short version' of the battle at St. Patrick's. Not only could he've lost Jocelyn, but his pseudo-daughter as well. It infuriated him that he hadn't been in the city with everything that had been going on.

He'd confronted Jace directly as soon as he'd arrived back in New York, demanding to know what he knew and how he'd let Clary become injured. Jace had calmly explained to him all that Father Thomas had revealed while Robert, Alec and Maia listened intently; Maryse and Magnus remained quiet.

Although Robert, Luke and Maryse knew of the legend of the Angel Children and that Clary and Jace were the main characters of Apocalyptic prophecy, they didn't understand the magnitude of Father Thomas's involvement and how intricate this battle would be. The involvement of the Greater Demon, Beelzebub, troubled Luke. But more than anything else, was that it seemed Vixie somehow had a role to play. And the fact that she hadn't returned from the Seelie Court in two days made Luke incredibly nervous.

It angered him that things seemed to be hidden from him and it was painstakingly obvious that Jocelyn hadn't been one hundred percent honest with him or Clary. He needed answers and he was going to demand them as soon as he could assure that his family was safe.

Maryse had completely retired as Chief of the Cock Block Patrol. Jace and Clary both discovered that she'd known all along about their destined love for one another, thereby rendering her 'no nookie clause' as obsolete. Plus the fact that she'd known all along that they'd have limited time together before the final battle began, gave Jace something to hold over her head, make her feel guilty for whenever he'd need something from her.

Jace wasn't convinced that Maryse had a sudden change of heart about the topic, but just accepted the fact that under-aged couples were having sex in her home, and quiet often. It was well known that Simon and Isabelle had been boinking like crazed rabbits since the battle, so Maryse had conceded that all parties involved were mature, consenting people and should be left to their own devices. Hence forth, the Cock Blockers were disbanded.

It took a while for Jocelyn to recover from her injuries, but thanks to Magnus's friend, her wounds were no longer life threatening. She still moved about slower than she'd had before, gingerly testing out her body as it was finishing its final stages of healing. Luke kept approaching her about the details behind what had happened, but she'd said she would wait until Vixie returned, because whatever she'd have to say would involve her too. Luke had agreed for now because he didn't want to upset her in her weakened condition, but was becoming quickly impatient and more frustrated by the minute.

Clary had made a full recovery from whatever had plagued after she'd destroyed Katia and her minions. Magnus kept telling her that her body had just shut down to protect itself from the amount of energy she'd used to destroy the other powerful enemies. Clary wasn't sure she'd believed his explanation, but figured there were enough things to dwell on than her momentary 'wig-out'.

Jace wasn't buying Magnus's explanation either, but decided to focus his attention on Clary's recovery, rather than delving into the mysteries of the magic realm and how they effect his supped-up, Angel-blooded fiancé.

And take care of her he did. It was rare for them to emerge from Clary's bedroom over the last two days. Since the retirement of the Cockblockers, they'd been wrapped up in each other constantly.

Clary and Jace had spent the entire morning alone together in Clary's bed. They both laid on their sides, their naked bodies pressed against each other; their legs were intertwined, both enjoying the comfortable silence between them. Clary had her back pressed against Jace's front, his long arms wrapped around her upper body as he was placing soft, sweet kisses along her neck. Clary held her left hand aloft, admiring the slim, golden band sitting on her ring finger.

"So, what's the deal about this ring anyway?" Clary asked softly as she turned her hand slightly back and forth so that the diamonds would sparkle in the light flowing in from the tiny slit in her heavy curtained window. Jace froze slightly in his ministrations, then continued to kiss his way up to her ear, pulling her lobe into his mouth with his tongue.

"What do you mean?" he asked, breathing warm air across Clary's sensitive skin, hoping to offer a small distraction from her question. He knew this conversation was coming, he just hadn't figured out how to address it yet.

"Well," Clary chuckled, bending her neck slightly so that the crook of her neck was cinched shut, cutting off Jace's access to her vulnerable, erogenous spot. Apparently, she'd clued in to his distraction tactics.

"Father Thomas made it sound like this ring was a gift. I think he called it 'the Angel's gift', or something like that. You seemed to know what he was talking about, so what did he mean by that?" Jace was silent for several moments, contemplating how best to address her question. Past experience had proven that she hated it when he would keep small things from her. He could only imagine how she'd feel to find out he'd kept something as big as a covert visit from Heaven from her; his odds didn't look good.

His silence caused Clary concern, and she turned from her comfortable spot in front of him to look at him full in his face. Jace propped himself up by his elbow.

"Um," Jace began, his eyes automatically drawn to Clary's exposed chest. Clary quickly snapped her fingers together to get Jace's attention, effectively and silently telling him 'eyes up here bub'.

"Well," Jace began again, looking away from Clary. He couldn't stand to look at her as he admitted his deceit. "Remember that day in Idris, by the Lake? The night the werewolf councilman was killed?" He could see Clary nod from his periphery.

"The Angel Ithuriel came to see me, while you were asleep on the blanket," he mumbled slowly. Clary gasped at his words, her left hand flew to her mouth in astonishment. She laid there quiet for the next several minutes as Jace began to tell her, verbatim, the words the Angel had spoken to him that day. He told her of the gift he offered her and the promise of abstinence he'd made. He told her of how he'd been told that they were meant for each other, by Heaven's design and the warning the Angel gave him.

When he finished telling her all he knew, Clary was silent and Jace couldn't bring himself to look at the disappointment in her eyes.

He stared numbly at the bed, playing with an imaginary thread at the edge of her comforter. He was internally kicking himself, wondering why he hadn't told her about this before. He'd initially been worried that she'd think he was crazy and having some sort of post-traumatic hallucinations from the battle and he didn't want to stress her out. He was also afraid that, if she would've believed him, she would've been terrified by the Angel's warning, and he didn't want to worry her needlessly.

But now, he was afraid she'd think the only reason he'd asked her to marry him was because the Angel had told him to, either that or because he'd wanted to boink her and was afraid of the Angel's retribution if he hadn't abided by the abstinence stipulation. Neither couldn't be farther from the truth.

Honestly, he'd wanted to marry Clary from the beginning. He'd always been drawn to her, feeling an incredible pull toward her that he could never rationalize in his mind. Even when he'd thought they were birth siblings, the strange attraction to her never abated, but only grew stronger over time and separation. And when they were finally reunited after the truth was discovered, he knew that there was meaning behind his feelings. That's when ideas of 'marriage' and 'forever' started formulating, which offered him a great amount of comfort at the time. Something about knowing that he'd have a lifetime to decipher and compartmentalize his intense feelings for Clary put his mind at ease. On top of that, he'd have endless moments to discover her body more intimately as well.

But to think that now, after months of confidence and love between them, she'd think his feelings for her weren't genuine, killed him. He started thinking rapidly of ways he could prove his love for her. _Flowers? Candy? Jewelry?_ Somehow, words alone didn't seem enough, but the mundane means to show one's affection seemed stale in comparison to how he felt. _Sex? _Even that idea turned his stomach because he believed he didn't deserve it. Clary's body was incredible, immaculate, and he didn't deserve to derive pleasure from it.

He felt enormously guilty and was sickened by the weight of it. No matter how many times, how many ways he looked at it, he came to the same conclusion: he did not deserve Clary's love; he was a fraud.

"What's got you so worked up?" Clary asked softly, her hand coming up to cup Jace's face. Jace closed his eyes tightly, his brow and lips pulled together to match the tension he felt inside. Clary began to smooth out the wrinkles on his face, attempting to alleviate some of his worry; it seemed to only make his discomfort worse.

"Clary," Jace began, his voice quivering and uneven. "I'm so fucking sorry." He let out a huge sigh and opened his eyes, once again starring at the bed beneath him.

"Sorry?" Clary asked, confusion in her voice. "What in the world would you have to be sorry for?" Jace's eyes snapped to hers.

"I lied to you by not telling you what'd happened. I lied by omission, Clary and I'm so sorry for that," he whispered as he looked into her eyes, somehow thinking the disappointment that was sure to be reflecting back to him would serve as part of his penance, for it would kill him to see her upset. But all he saw in her eyes was love and…understanding. Clary smiled softly and shook her head.

"Jace," she spoke sweetly, her soft tiny hands brushing back the hair curled on Jace's brow. "Please believe me when I say that you have nothing to be ashamed about or feel sorry for. It must have been such a burden for you to carry that all alone for so long." Jace looked at her, confused.

"You're not upset?" Jace asked. Clary shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Why?" he asked, pulling his face away from her hands and half-way sitting up in the bed.

"Because," Clary answered as she sat up, pulling the sheet of her bed around her chest and leaning back on her headboard. "No matter how this happened," she said sternly, motioning between the two of them in quick succession, "it was meant to be. I know you love me, Jace. And with that love comes the extreme sense you have to protect me. It can drive me crazy at times, but I know that everything you do, you have my best interest at heart. I'm sure your reasonings for not telling me where to protect me, even if it was a illogical, roundabout way. I can't deny that I'm not happy only finding out about it now, but I could never be mad at you for thinking of me first; I couldn't love you more for it."

Jace silently stared at her, looking between both of her eyes to see if there was a hint of doubt behind her words. He saw none; and it made him feel guilty once again.

He let out his breath he'd be holding and looked down at the bed once more, shaking his head in disappointment of himself. He should've told her, should've trusted that she'd be able to handle anything this world had to throw at them. He underestimated her, again. And he felt angry at himself that he didn't have enough faith in her.

"Stop," Clary spoke sternly, as if she could hear his inner musings. "Don't do that, Jace." He looked up at her, a look of pained remorse on his face. "Don't feel guilty about this; its simply a needless waste of time and energy."

"I should've trusted that you could handle it," Jace mumbled softly.

"You didn't know," Clary answered just as quiet.

"I should've had faith," he retorted, closing his eyes softly as he awaited for the truth of his contrite to hit Clary full on. Then she'd understand his wrongdoings, then she'd be disappointed, and then she'd be rightfully angry at him.

"Jace, listen to me," Clary spoke quickly, grabbing his right hand that was clenched tightly into a large fist. "This is all new, this relationship between us. It's going to take a while to feel each other out. We'll both make mistakes and we'll both hurt each other at some point. Please know that now matter what happens in the day to day grind of life, I will always be here by your side. So, you think that you should've told me sooner, and maybe you should've, I don't know." Jace hung his head at that. "But the point is that I _know_ you didn't keep it from me to hurt me. And I have faith that, at the time, you truly believed you were doing the right thing."

Jace nodded his head in agreement to her words, but he couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment in himself and it was clearly showed on his face. Clary sighed exasperatedly.

"For shit's sake, Jace," she added tersely; Jace's head snapped up to look at her. "You act like we're in our mid twenties or something. We're both still kids, for crying out loud. We're gunna make mistakes. Let's just move on. It's not the end of the poop'n world. So what, we're meant for each other; blah, blah, blah. I for one am getting sick and fucking tired of all the '_Heaven's Design'_ talk, personally." Clary finished from her mini-tirade, folding her arms across her chest and allowing the sheet to fall from her chest and gather on her lap.

Jace smiled at her antics, feeling for the first time that morning, the first time in a while actually, truly content. It was like a weight had been lifted off of his back, now that Clary knew everything, well everything that he knew. And the fact that she'd taken everything so well only made him feel that much better.

Clary saw him smiling and her posture loosened slightly. They stared at each other slightly, both pursing their lips together to try and keep the chuckles at bay. But when they both saw the humor in each other's eyes, their mouths opened and the laughter poured out like a dam that'd burst open.

"You said 'poop'n'," Jace managed to spit out between guffaws.

"Damn, poop'n 'Heaven's Design'," Clary mocked through chuckles, causing Jace to laugh harder at her choice of words. They sat there for several minutes, trying to reign in their laughter. But every time one of them would gain control, the other would start snorting once again.

It was moments like this, when they were completely oblivious and happy, that their love for each other shined. It made Jace's heart soar when he looked at the huge smile on Clary's face, knowing he put it there.

He watched her laugh as she tried to gain sobriety from the humor; the smile on his face made his jaw sore, it was so big, but he couldn't find a way to curb his enjoyment. He loved seeing her like this; she looked so elated and comfortable with him, alone in her room and away from any real-world distraction. He vowed from then on to be that person that could make her this happy for a life time. He vowed to cherish her, to keep her safe from harm, and to comfort her through all the coming turmoil.

Clary started to calm under Jace's silent musings, both of their eyes locked onto each other. Their humor abated, they just enjoyed the comfortable silence between them. But as they stared at each other, another emotion made itself known. Desire.

Jace's eyes became hooded as he watched Clary's eyes dart from his mouth, to his eyes wantonly. He hesitated only slightly, enjoying the look on Clary's face just a moment more. Then he reached one hand up to place it behind Clary's head, so that he could pull her face even with his. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips in anticipation for his heated kiss.

As their lips met, the spark between them ignited into a raging inferno. They moved slowly at first, each moving their hands to caress their favorite body part of the other as their lips moved. But as soon as their mouths parted to deepen the kiss, the firestorm exploded inside them both.

Jace moved himself in front of Clary, placing one hand behind her head, the other around her lower waist so that he could lower her down in the bed. He positioned himself so that he was leaning over her body and her legs open widely to welcome him in. The sheet had fallen from the front of Clary's body, exposing her to Jace; and he capitalized on her the opportunity.

The hand cradling Clary's head started its slow descent down her body, pausing for a moment on the rounded peaks of her chest. His fingertips found the peaked nipple of one of her breasts, and he took to tip between two fingers. He rolled it, pulled it and thumbed it as Clary moaned in pleasure below him. After his hand spend due homage to her breasts, it began its decline once more, his mouth following in its wake.

His fingers found her heated center, and she gasped as they parted her swollen sex for his exploration. He coated his fingers in her slick arousal and found her small bundle of nerves with his thumb. He began to massage it as one finger entered her warmth, earning a guttural moan from Clary that sent a burning desire in his lower abdomen. She began writhing in the bed as Jace worked his magic with his hands, her back arching as she spread her legs wider for better access.

He lifted his head from its resting spot on her abdomen to enjoy the looks on her face and Jace brought her to climax. He loved watching her come for him; it was the most beautiful site he'd ever seen.

"Argh," Clary moaned as Jace pushed another finger into her, his thumb continuing its dance on her tender clit. Jace thrilled in the sound of her pleasure, but he needed more. He needed to bring her more bliss; she deserved to be worshiped and adored by him. Only him; _no other man will ever take part in her_. That though alone increased his desire for her tenfold. He was discovering how to bring her the most intense pleasure and was enjoying every minute of it. He wanted to learn to play her body like a fiddle, knowing every soft spot, every erogenous area of hers so he could bring her to climax over and over again.

"Come for me, Clary," Jace crooned, speeding up with movements to bring her to the edge. Clary's breathing picked up and her eyes shut tightly. Jace began kissing his way down her belly, pausing for a moment on her hip bones. He took the skin there into his mouth, this tongue grazing it slightly. He continued down until his tongue replace his thumb; the taste of her was pure heaven.

Clary let out a sharp gasp as Jace's tongue began to circle her swollen nub, his fingers pumping in and out of her at fast intervals. She was close to the edge and he knew it. Jace curved his fingers inside her upwards, caressing that special spot inside her, completely sending her body careening out of control.

Her lower body clenched down on his fingers as her orgasm over took her. She threw her head back and her eyes shut tightly as her breath came out in short pants. Jace watched her in amazement, never pausing in his actions to her body as wave after wave overtook her small frame in unadulterated ecstasy.

After several intense moments, Clary regained control of herself. Her eyes flew open and locked onto Jace's, half-lidded and wanton. Jace just looked at her, a sly, cocky grin on his face.

"Proud of yourself?" Clary asked, cocking one eyebrow as small smile curved her mouth.

"Damn straight," Jace smiled.

"Hmmm," Clary mused, her eyes grazing over Jace's entire body, stopping on a particular hardened and very erect member. Clary's tongue trailed her lower lip as she pulled it between her teeth. "My turn," she mumbled.

With incredible strength and speed, she turned them both over so she was on top of him. Before Jace could process her actions, Clary had straddled him and completely sheathed herself over him. They both moaned at the feeling of it.

"Shit," Jace hissed as Clary set a steady pace, rising her body up and down over and over again. She threw her head back and her eyes closed tightly. She placed one hand on Jace's chest for support, the other found her heated nub in the center where they were joined. She worked herself furiously in search for her climax; she could feel it building intensely inside her belly. But more powerful than that, was the burning sensation that was building inside her chest. It'd happened once before, when they were in the throws of passion, but it took Clary by surprise as several runes started flashing in front of her closed eyes. She didn't recognize them, but it made the desire inside her heighten when she saw them.

Jace watched her with widened eyes; she looked amazing, her hair cascaded down her back, tickling his legs as she rode him with complete abandon. Jace thrust his hips upward, meeting Clary pump for pump. They would each pause momentarily, when their bodies were at their deepest penetration, so that they could revel in the feeling of being so close to each other.

"Oh god," Clary groaned as she pushed herself deeper onto Jace, moving her hips back and forth unconsciously. "I'm…uhn…Jace," she whimpered as her body began spasming with the beginnings of her climax. Jace lifted his hips off the bed sharply, driving himself into her once last time as he exploded inside her. Both of their bodies twitched and clenched as their shared orgasms consumed them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**AN: You wanted lemons, how's that for ya? Finally, some Clary/Jace smut for your cookie jar. LOL!**

**Voting for the MI awards ends TONIGHT!!! Go vote peeps! Show me some love! Vote, review, blow me a kiss. Sneak peek for next weeks chapter is on the thread (link on profile).**

**Okay, so I have a confession to make. I recently looked over the first couple chapters of this story and visibly cringed; the writing was so sloppy. I went back through it with a fine tooth comb and cleaned it up, just cause it makes me feel better, so all you new readers will hopefully get a better story out of it (and the older ones too, since I'm tons better now). I also went back and added both bonus chapters to the story, so it all flows together. **

**I want to thank all the people that religiously read and review this little fanfic. I know the following for MI fics is not as HUGE as, oh let's say, TWILIGHT, but I think our little fandom rocks pretty hard. So, I am deeply pleased by the response I've had to this story. Hopefully you've all enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it. There are a couple more chapters left to SOTF, and I'm so excited for the next book to start. I'm also looking for a second beta for the next story, so if anyone is interested, let me know!**


	22. Chapter 21 The Truth

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

***Lemon Warning: If you're not old enough to read, then peace out now! It's about 60% Pervwus proof. Just skip the end of the bedroom scene if you don't wanna read it :D*  
**

Chapter 21 - The Truth

It wasn't until much later, close to early afternoon, that Jace and Clary were awakened from a post-coital nap by a soft knock on the bedroom door.

"Wakey, wakey," Isabelle's smooth voice sang sweetly. "Hands off Jace's snakey," she snickered as she popped her head in the room through the tiny crack in the door, her eyes closed tightly in attempt to shield them from Jace's naked butt. She chuckled softly as she heard Clary groan in protest.

"Is it safe to open my eyes?" Isabelle asked coyly. "Or am I going to be blinded by images I'd need a stiff drink and Draino to forget?" Jace laughed as he tucked the cotton sheet securely around himself and Clary. It wasn't like Isabelle hadn't seen his naked butt before; they'd lived as siblings for the last eight years, after all. He was more worried about Clary being uncomfortable at the prospect of their naked bodies being on display for ogiling.

"It's safe, Iz," he replied, dry humor in his voice. Isabelle hesitantly opened one eye at a time, relieved to only find Clary and Jace in her bed, both obviously naked beneath the sheets, but seemingly to have been fast asleep prior to her interruption; Clary still tried in vain to maintain her slumber as she turned her back on Isabelle and curled into Jace's chest ; she began to gripe.

"Iz," she groaned sleepily. "Why are you bothering us right now? I wanna sleep." Clary pulled the sheets from her bed up around her shoulders and tucked herself deeper into Jace, taking in the sweet, musky smells of his skin. Jace rubbed her back through the cotton sheets consolingly. Isabelle rolled her eyes.

"No choice," Isabelle answered flippantly as she entered the room a bit more. "Mom informed me that the official 'meeting of the minds' is happening in 'T' minus thirty minutes, and told me to come wake you up." Jace and Clary groaned simultaneously. They'd enjoyed their time alone, but apparently their two-day hiatus from all of the Apocalyptic-drama was over.

"Yeah," Isabelle's voice mirrored their disappointment and lack of enthusiasm. "It should be fun. Luke's on a war path too, so better get your game faces on."

"What do you mean?" Clary asked, turning away from Jace's warm body to look at Isabelle as she answered.

"Well, besides being upset that he wasn't here to protect you and Jocelyn, and the fact that his sixteen year old pseudo-daughter has been spending the last two days locked up in her room with her eighteen year old boyfriend, your Mom is being very tight lipped about all she knows. I think Luke is a little overstretched at the moment. I have a feeling that it's gunna be pretty intense in there," Isabelle finished, placing her hand on her hip and tapping the wooden door with the toe of her black boot. She was starring at the wood, not meeting their curious eyes.

"Dad's pissed too," she mumbled softly. "I think all of this has been a lot for them both to take in. They were so wrapped up in the Council business, they couldn't be here when we needed them. It frustrates them both." Isabelle sighted and shrugged her shoulders as she looked at them full-faced. "Plus the fact that me and Simon have been attached at the hip. Or more like attached at the…"

"Yeah," Clary interrupted quickly as Isabelle's cocky smile swept across her face. "We get it." Clary let out a long sigh, knowing the day was going to be tough for all those involved. Isabelle turned to leave the room, giving Clary and Jace a private moment to collect their thoughts before facing their parents.

"Don't worry," Jace hummed in her ear. "Luke's not going to go all 'fatherly' on me. I'm sure that whatever they want to talk about is just a recap of the info we already know. I'm sure they just want to lay out all the cards on the table so we can make a logical decision on what our next step will be." Clary rolled her eyes, loving Jace's attempt to sugar coat the inevitable. This wasn't going to be comfortable for her, by any means. She knew that this meeting would focus on her and whoever was behind the attack at St. Patrick's, whoever had hired Katia and her henchmen to kill Father Thomas and capture her. Unfortunately, their clues to the mysterious enemy's identity were vague and tainted.

Tainted because whatever information they'd gained from Father Thomas during his prophetic trance deep within the catacombs below the old Cathedral was skewed when he became possessed by the Greater Demon, Beelzebub. They couldn't trust what had been said as factual. But what he had said made Clary's skin crawl. During his possession, Father Thomas had hinted that this secret evil-dude wanted to capture Clary and use her. For what, they weren't certain, but he'd made it sound like the outcome wouldn't be for good. He'd spoken about how Valentine had used Downworlders to experiment with and how he'd passed the knowledge on to their recluse enemy, giving him the ability to super charge the demons under his control. But how did Clary come into play? Was he going to use Clary to repopulate the world with…what? Mutants? Half demon, half angel-blooded freaks?

When Jace attempted to gain more information himself, casting his own meditative fire so that he was linked to Heaven, he didn't provide any further information that could point towards the person's identity. Only that they'd had a traitor among them and that Beelzebub was behind the plot to take her captive.

The facts they did have painted a pretty terrifying picture. Not to mention all the Apocalyptic crap that focused around Clary _and_ Jace was enough to push her into a mental breakdown.

_When did life get so dramatic?_

"Don't stress, Clary," Jace crooned sweetly, tucking a loose strand of her matted hair behind her ear. "There's nothing that'll be said you don't already know." Clary scoffed, incredulous.

"You can't be serious," she spat, pushing herself up slightly so that she could look into Jace's eyes. "Have you seen the way my mother's been acting lately?" she asked as her brow furrowed in cynicism. "She's hiding something, I know it. I've known something was off for a while. And I'm sure that my mom's secret hand will blow all the other proverbial cards right off the playing field. I hate that she's kept things from me. But I guess its been her norm lately. And to think that she knew this whole time that we were meant to be together, and she still acted all 'parental' by keeping us away from each other….Argh! She pisses me off…" Jace just ran his hand along her arms and shoulders, trying to comfort his fiancé in any manner he could.

He had, reluctantly, told her what had happened after she'd passed out at St. Patrick's, including the incoherent ramblings of a dying Father Thomas. It was obvious that Vixie had a past with the priest, and they'd seemed to have some sort of secret understanding between each other that was important enough for Father Thomas to mention as he was leaving this world. She seemed to have a bigger role in all of this than she'd led on to. The thought of that made Jace incredibly anxious. He still didn't trust her.

Although his memories of the time he'd spent enslaved by Vixie were foggy, he'd been told details about what he couldn't remember by a furious Maryse. His panicked mind had created horribly vulnerable scenarios to fill in the blanks. She was devious, a monster, and someone that couldn't be trusted. And the fact that Jocelyn had refused to speak about her past dealings with Father Thomas until Vixie returned made Jace…nervous.

And the fact that Vixie went all mysterious and left for the Seelie Queen after they'd returned from the Cathedral only made the case against her dishonesty stronger. She was hiding something, that much was obvious; and secrets held between supposed allies did not bode well with Jace. And why hadn't Vixie returned from the Court yet? It'd been two days, and no word from her.

It was no secret that the Seelie Queen was conniving; Jace hadn't tried to hide the fact that he didn't trust her motives for Vixie's appointment to the team. The Queen had always seemed to be plotting behind the scenes. Even in Idris, when she'd approached Clary about trying to push Luke to recommend Merloin as the Fey representative on the Council, she seemed like she had some sort of hidden agenda. She'd even offered Clary a favor, a trade for her to speak to Luke about it. It seemed she was working like a puppeteer even then, pulling the strings to her advantage. That thought made Jace address a scary proposition. Why was the Queen so avid about getting Vixie on the team? Was Vixie the traitor? Is she the one that the Angel Ithuriel warned him about?

Jace shook his head slightly, as if to wipe out the disconcerting thoughts from his mind. He didn't want to linger on accusations he had no evidence for. Yes, things seemed to be sketchy with Vixie and Jocelyn, but he wasn't about to dwell on them now. Not with his completely bare girlfriend lying next to him in her bed.

He looked down on his chest to see Clary tracing the small, thin rune scars upon his skin with her fingertips, her thoughts deep into her own inner musings. He didn't like to see her stressed, or worried. He knew that it bothered her that so much had been kept from her. Clary was hurting because she felt like she'd been lied to her entire life, by someone who was supposed to love her without pause or question: her mother, Jocelyn.

But even with all the turmoil surrounding them lately, he'd been able to bury himself in her warmth for the past two days, letting all their problems take a back burner for once. He'd treasured every moment he'd spent with Clary, alone and secluded in her little room. And he was thrilled that, for the most part, everyone had left them alone to decompress from all of this on their own. It was like their own personal timeout, their break from reality. And he hated to see it all coming to an end. It was necessary, but very unfortunate.

Jace looked at Clary for several minutes in a silent reverie, feeling completely blessed to have her in his life. But as he watched her trace his skin, he noticed that her brow had furrowed and a pained look had crept onto her face. Her features looked concerned, slightly tortured; and he wished like hell he could take away all the stress in her life that plagued her.

"Do you think she had more to do with this?" Clary asked quietly, her face frozen in that pained, worried expression. "Vixie, I mean," she clarified when Jace remained silent. "Do you think she's somehow more involved?" Jace studied her for a couple seconds, weighing his words with great care, not wanting to add unneeded angst to her already overloaded plate. He finally decided that the truth was always the better course. At least, that in which he knew for certain.

"I know there's more to her story than she's reviled. But I don't think it pertains to us like you're thinking." Clary stopped her ministrations on Jace's chest and looked at him as he spoke. The expression in her eyes pained him, like she was drowning with worry and pain, looking to him to provide the answers. He wanted to give her a lifesaver of hope, that not everything around her was based on lies and trickery. But Jace was as apprehensive as she was; he had a feeling more anguish was coming.

"I just think that she was appointed to the team for a specific reason. The Queen hinted as much back at the Seelie Court. Maybe Vixie knew Father Thomas a long time ago. Faeries do live long lives, I don't know. But I don't think it's anything more than that."Clary sighed and nodded, looking again to Jace's bare chest and continuing her soft touches as she though quietly.

"Regardless of what's going on with her," Jace mused. "I will keep you safe, Clary." She nodded again, not meeting his eyes. Jace took her small chin in his hand and tilted her head till she met his gaze.

"It's what I was born to do," Jace spoke softly as his thumb trailed along the soft skin of her jaw. "I will always protect you, Clary. I would never let harm come to you. I would die first." Clary smiled sweetly, but her heart held a small ache. The though of Jace giving his life for her own made her slightly nauseous, because she knew he was serious. The thought of that sent her mind into overdrive. She started thinking of a life without Jace. Would it be worth living if he wasnt here to share it with her? Her heart cringed at the thought.

Her whole world was wrapped up in Jace. Even now, with the idea of a whole day away from his soft golden skin pressed up against hers, made her body physically ache. She needed him, in every sense of the word. How could she go a day without his presence in her life when the mere thought of them leaving the comfort of her bed made her body mourn?

"Jace?" she said softly as she leaned her head towards his body, needing a distraction. He hummed in response. She bent her head and kissed along the trail her fingertips made, causing Jace to moan reflexively. "How long did she say we had?" Clary asked between licks and kisses. Jace leaned his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying Clary's attention.

"Thirty…ah god, yeah right there…th-thirty minutes," Jace stuttered as Clary's tongue found Jace's pert nipples.

"Hmm," Clary moaned against Jace's heated skin, causing goose bumps to pimple his flesh there.

"I was thinking," she mused sweetly. "Of how much I need you. My body craves your touch, do you know that?" Jace shivered at her words, her hand traced the curvature of his muscles in her chest and abdomen.

"Mmmm," Jace moaned as Clary's mouth began to follow the trail her fingers where traveling. "I need you, Clary," he crooned.

"Shower?" Clary asked as she moved her way down Jace's abdomen towards his happy spot.

"Ahn…s-s-sure. Ummm, oh god, Clary." But she didn't pause in her journey; Clary trailed the tip of her tongue the groove Jace's taut abdominal muscles made, serving as deep canal leading to the place he most wanted her at. His thick member twitched in excitement and anticipation.

Clary curled her tiny fingers around the bulk of him, placing featherlight strokes along his soft, silken skin. Jace moaned in excitement and his hips involuntarily rose from the mattress, thrusting himself deeper into her touch.

"Little jumpy?" Clary asked, teasing; her mouth curled into a satisfied smirk. Jace chuckled softly.

"I can't stop the motion of the ocean, baby," he laughed, trying to sound assured and confident against her seduction. But seconds later, Clary had his toes curling as she began to run her tongue along the widened tip of his cock. She circled it, teased it until Jace felt he would implode if she didn't place her hot little mouth around him completely.

"Clary," Jace moaned, reaching his hand up to place it behind Clary's head, threading his fingers into her thick auburn hair in order to direct her attention where he wanted her.

Clary began to tease him further, opening her mouth only wide enough to take the tip in. She applied the gentlest amount of suction to his organ, just enough to make Jace writhe and wanton for more. She smiled inwardly as Jace began to pant, softly begging her for more through incoherent grunts and growls.

Just when she thought he couldn't take her teasing any further, to the point when she thought he'd grab her by the hips and plunge himself into her to satisfy his craving for release, she sheathed her mouth completely over him, engulfing his entire length in her hot, slick warmth. She felt the tip of him hit the back of her throat, and she relaxed her gag to accommodate his size.

Jace growled in his pleasure, the sound of which resonated around the room causing Clary's center to burn with desire for him. But this, she wanted to do for him. She wanted to pleasure him, focus on only him. Jace had always been a very giving lover, always satisfying her several times before he'd allow himself to climax. She loved him and wanted him to feel bliss and ecstasy several times over. For now, this was only about him.

She set a steady pace as she drove her self down onto him over and over again. Jace's eyes were squeezed shut against the onslaught of the euphoric sensation. Never had he felt such raw pleasure; he'd imagined it, time and time again he'd dreamt of what it would be like to have Clary's mouth around him. He spent many cold nights thinking of what it would be like to see her knelt before him and he slammed himself into her. But nothing could even compare to the reality of it. And to see it...

Jace's eyes flew open; he looked down to see Clary looking up at him with raw desire in her eyes as she pleasured him beyond his wildest dreams. The visual effects of it triggered his release; he could feel it quickly rising in his groin, the soothing fire laced with excitement and euphoria built inside him until his muscles were clenching and jolting from the power of it. He released deep within Clary's throat and she took him all in greedily.

Jace panted and groaned through his heavy orgasm, and Clary couldn't have been more satisfied. She rested her chin on Jace's thigh, looking at him as his body recovered. When Jace was coherent enough to function, he looked down on her and smiled.

"That was..."

"Amazing?" Clary interrupted. "Euphoric? Perfection?" she giggled as she listed as many descriptions as possible. Jace just nodded, dumbfounded and completely content.

"Your welcome," Clary sighed. They lay there for a couple minutes, looking at each other and enjoying the comfortable silence.

"How much time do we have left?" Jace asked after a while.

"Probably about fifteen minutes," Clary answered with a shrug. Jace smiled.

"Shower?" he asked with a crooked smile. Clary's eyes brightened as she sprang from the bathroom, running like hell was after her towards the bathroom. Jace was hot on her tail.

* * *

The shower water ran cold before they unwillingly pulled themselves away from each other and began washing their bodies feverishly against the frigid water. They both dressed hurriedly into comfortable clothes and made their way to the library where everyone else was gathered.

They'd only been ten minutes late when they walked into the library among the scoffs and 'tsks' of disapproval from Maryse who was standing by the large doors of the entry way waiting for them. Everyone else was there, including all the Downworlders from the hunting party, save Vixie. They were all watching them enter with furtive glances and jovial smiles. The obvious reasoning behind their tardiness felt like a big neon sign hanging over Clary's head, flashing in big purple glowing letters 'Look at me! My boyfriend gave me four orgasms this morning!' Clary's face reddened from embarrassment, but Jace strutted into the place just as confident and cocky as ever.

"So what's shakin', my peeps?" Jace asked confidently, swinging his arm around his obviously humiliated fiance, nonchalantly.

"Nice of you to join us, Jace," Maryse spoke icily, making her disdain at their tardiness, and reasoning behind said delinquency, abundantly apparent.

"Sure thing, Mom," Jace smiled, smacking Clary on the ass as he made his way to join Maia by the table full of food they'd set up by the fireplace, leaving Clary to stand alone in her embarrassment and sore behind.

Simon and Isabelle were curled up together on a large, wing-back chair near the fireplace, enjoying the warm comfort it provided. They seemed lost in their own private world, for they barely acknowledged Jace and Clary's appearance. They stared lovingly into each others eyes, whispering softly to each other. Occasionally, Simon's face would disappear behind Isabelle's neck and she'd giggled softly as he planted wet kisses there. Jace watched in morbid amusement.

"Kinda puke inducing, isn't it?" Maia mumbled from across the buffet table. "They've been at it all morning. I think Simon's lucky to still have his balls intact, actually," Maia giggled. "Your dad looks like he wants to dismember him of said appendage and place them on his mantle for deflowering his precious little girl." Jace scoffed, glancing at an irate Robert who was blatantly staring holes into Simon's head with a look of disapproval. Jace shook his head.

"I don't know why he's upset," Jace retorted as he popped a purple grape into his mouth. "Iz lost her virtue a long, long time ago. Simon's good for her, he settles her down."

"I know, right?" Maia chuckled. Jace smiled wryly as he popped another piece of fruit in his mouth. He suddenly got the feeling like someone was looking at him as the hair on the back of his neck rose. Jace scanned the area quickly to find the source and saw Luke staring at him with a feral look on his face. He was starring daggers at him, effectively stopping Jace's nibbling dead in its tracks.

"Damn," Maia mumbled. "What the hell did you do to him?" Maia asked as Jace painfully gulped down the grape that seemed to be stuck in his throat.

"Unlike Simon, my young friends," Magnus added as he joined the two others at the morning buffet. "Jace actually _did_ take little Clary's virtue, all while her daddy was gone playing Nanny to the Clave. I guess sexy time with an alpha werewolf's daughter wasn't exactly the smartest decision now, was it?" Jace shook his head slightly, silently hoping he'd still have his balls by morning.

"Don't worry," Magnus sighed as he brought a fresh cup of coffee to his lips. "I think your balls would make a lovely decorative feature to this dreary little hovel." Jace broke his stare-down trance with Luke to look at Magnus, incredulous and mildly disgusted; Magnus had his head tilted to the side and his left hand held out in front of him in a certain angle as he examined the fireplace mantle in quandary. It looked like he was measuring up the mantle, imagining the needed dimensions and space in order to place Jace's testicles there, nestled among the heavy ornaments and framed photographs.

"What is wrong with you?" Maia asked the flamboyant Warlock, disgusted and mildly entertained. "You are a seriously twisted, glittery boy," Maia laughed. Jace nodded in agreement, sobering up from his amusement as he furtively glanced at Luke. Magnus just shrugged his shoulders with a contemplative 'hmm' and walked over to his boyfriend, Alec, who was sitting behind the large desk, brow furrowed, and compiling some sort of list on a long piece of parchment.

As Maia and Jace enjoyed the buffet, Clary turned to Luke and smiled slightly. He offered her a half smile as he pushed his wire rimmed glasses back up his nose. Clary made her way over to him and wrapped her arms around his waste. Luke returned the hug, placing his cheek on the top of Clary's head.

"How you doing, Clarissa?" he asked, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, reminding Clary of afternoons spent with her head on Luke as they enjoyed a good comedic movie in her old apartment. Clary sighed.

"Good, Luke. I've missed you."

"Me too, kid," he answered. "Life's boring without you or your mom around." Clary pulled away smiling. She started to look around, expecting to see her mother nearby.

"Where's mom?" she asked solemnly. Luke gestured with his head towards a large bay window that overlooked the city. Across the room, Jocelyn stood motionless, staring out the window in silence.

"Have you talked to her?" Clary asked quietly, trying not to draw attention from the others.

"Vaguely," Luke answered shortly, frustration thick in his voice. "She won't answer many of my questions. She says it wouldn't be fair, without Vixie here." Luke shook his head , disappointed. "I don't understand it, but I've never known her to be illogical. I'm sure she has her reasons."

"That's what makes me nervous," Clary whispered in reply. Luke shook his head slightly in silent agreement, rubbing Clary's back comfortingly as they both stared at Jocelyn.

Luke was informed of Jace's past dealings with Vixie. It was an uncomfortable conversation to have, because Jace was now with Clary; talking about his future son-in-law's past sexual escapades was not something he ever wanted to venture into. But when Maryse had told him the Silent Brothers wanted him to oversee the Downworlder's training and attempt to smooth over any rough spots in their group, she had to inform him of their past dealings with Vixie.

Luke had his misgivings about Vixie since then, but he also had a positive outlook on it. He, of all people, knew that assumptions can be a dangerous thing. After all, Jocelyn had taken Valentine's word as truth when he told her Luke had killed himself after he'd been bitten by a werewolf. She had assumed Valentine didn't have any reason to lie; she'd mourned Luke's death. It was only later that Jocelyn discovered Luke was alive and well. From that experience, Luke learned that things were not always what they seemed, and he'd resolved to give Vixie the benefit of doubt until she proved otherwise. That being said, the fact that Jocelyn was so dependent on her return, made Luke slightly uneasy. But he couldnt get the answers if Jocelyn refused to talk, and there was no way he could make that woman do anything she didnt fully want to; he never could.

He sighed heavily as he looked at the somber woman by the bay window, wondering idily what she was so determined about. Hopefully, he'd get his answers tonight. Hopefully, with all the truth laid out in plain English he could find a way to protect his family.

***~*~***

The group took several more minutes to enjoy easy conversation and enjoyment of the food provided. Clary had meandered over to the table to nibble on a blueberry muffin while Maia enjoyed a plate of bacon. The two girls eased into a conversation about the latest Kings of Leon album blasting from Maia's ipod buds.

Jace bravely approached Luke, offering him a manly handshake as an olive branch. The exchange was tense, at best. But Luke's animosity for Jace and Clary's relationship was a front; Jace was a smart boy and an avid fighter. Luke knew that Jace would be a good partner for Clary but that didn't mean that he had to like the fact that they were sleeping together. He had a right to be a little perturbed about it; Clary was the closest thing to a daughter he'd ever had, and he had a fatherly duty to make Jace feel nervous. Inwardly, he smiled at the nervous look on Jace's face as they exchange pleasantries.

Magnus was leaning over Alec's shoulder as he sat on the large desk. Alec was busy looking over his list, making heavy scratches on the paper as he added items to discuss once everyone had a chance to eat from the buffet table. After twenty minutes had past, he decided to get the ball rolling. He stood from the large leather seat and addressed the group as a whole.

"I think it's time we discussed all that happened in the last couple of weeks." He looked around the room and was met with slight nods and small grimaces, but no one objected so Alec continued. "I know that we've pretty much said all of this already, but I think the gravity of the situation is so great that it bears repeating."

"Let's just skip to the good parts," Magnus squealed, clapping his hands together avidly as he swung his legs from the edge of his perch on the mahogany desk. Alec did his best to both ignore Magnus's girly shriek and indulge him at the same time by placing one hand on Magnus's knee as he did his best to continue straight faced.

"I've written a short outline of all that we know. There seem to be some gaps in the middle parts, and I'm hoping that with our collective minds, we can decipher what's missing for any hidden truths."

"As long as everyone is honest," Clary spat, her eyes boring into her mother's somber head. Jocelyn continued to stare out he bay window as she did her best to ignore her daughter, but the corner of her mouth twitched and her jaw muscles tightened slightly. Clary did not miss the small reaction; neither did Luke.

"We need to know the absolute truth, Jocelyn," Luke's deep voice rumbled from across the room. "You've told the Lightwoods and I only the information we needed to know so we could be prepared for future events. But it's become apparent that there is more to this story than what you've told us. I know you know more than you're saying. It's time to spill it." Jocelyn stared straight ahead of her, not turning from the New York scenery out the window.

"What exactly did she tell you," Jace asked sharply, directly addressing Luke as the werewolf stared into the back of Jocelyn's head. He remained silent.

"I think that's a good place to start," Maryse picked up when Luke remained silent. She crossed the room from her place beside the library door and stood in the middle of the room so she could be seen by all parties. She addressed each person solemnly, but her main focus was on Jace and Clary.

"After Jocelyn awoke, after the war in Idris, she had pulled Robert, Luke and I aside to tell us what she knew. At first, we didn't want to believe her; there was still a lot of mixed emotions between the four of use residing after the whole 'Valentine thing.'" Jace scoffed at that minutely. Maryse ignored him and continued, moving her hands in gesturing movements as she spoke.

"Jocelyn had asked us if we'd ever heard of the legend of The Oracle and his apocalyptic prophecies. When all of us had said we'd had a vague recollection of them, she started reciting parts of the old legends; stories of Children of the Angel, peace between Shadowhunters and Downworlders, and a great evil that threatened our world."

"I thought the prophecies were well known among the Shadowhunters. Didn't you know about them before hand?" Maia asked, innocently.

"We knew of them," Robert cut in. "But you need to remember that we came from the age of deep seeded hate of Downworlders. When the prophecies were made several decades before we were born, there was so much prejudice and hate within the Clave that Father Thomas was shunned as a fraud for his stories. By the time we were in training, the prophecies became more of a folklore than gospel." Maia nodded in understanding. Maryse continued.

"So when Jocelyn spoke about Father Thomas's prophecies, she focused on the one of the Angel Children. Specifically telling us of the importance these two people would play in future events. Although the details of the future were unclear, it was certain that these two people, a boy and a girl, would be key characters in how things played out."

"Did she tell you of what the future held?" Simon asked quietly.

"No," Maryse said sternly, turning to look at the back of Jocelyn's head and continued as if she wasnt there. "She told us that she didn't know the details of it, just that it had to do with a vast demon invasion of this world. Now, I'm not so sure if she was being honest." Jocelyn remained silent, but her jaw muscles tightened at her words.

"Maryse," Robert softly chastised, but Maryse ignored his plea and continued with her story.

"At first, the three of us asked her if the war in Idris was the great demon invasion that Father Thomas prophesied about. She said it wasn't. She was certain of it because the way it had been described made that war in Idris look like child's play. The vast demonic numbers far outweighed any mortal imaginings and if the Angel Children were not properly prepared for the onslaught, then our world would surely be overcome."

"But how could you know who the Angel Children were?" Maia asked, completely enthralled with the story.

"That's what we'd asked her," Robert answered. "But at this time, we didn't take the legend as truth. At that point, we were still under the impression that this was all myth. A fable."

"Until Jocelyn started to tell us the truth about her past," Luke interrupted, his gaze never leaving Jocelyn by the window.

"The truth?" Clary asked, her eyes looking from Luke to her mother questioningly. "She told you about what happened? What Valentine had done?" Luke shook his head softly.

"Well, could you enlighten those of us who don't know," Isabelle snapped impatiently. Simon reached a hand up to soothe her temper. She melted into his touch but her eyes never left her mother.

"I would prefer for Jocelyn to tell her story," Maryse said slowly. "It's not my place to tell; a lot of it is very...personal." Jocelyn sighed and turned to the group. All eyes were fixed on her.

"I met Valentine when we were children," she started slowly, her eyes fixed on the floor. "At first, I was incredibly happy. In love. He made me feel special. He was handsome, charismatic and we were all very taken by him. And his ideas were revolutionary; he painted a world where Shadowhunters flourished and were honored for our duties for mankind." Magnus scoffed at that.

"We were all drawn in," Robert replied to Magnus's disdain. "At that time, he didn't speak of Downworlders destruction and enslavement as he did later."

"But when he did, you were all with him then too," Magnus retorted, disdain and disgust in his voice. Alec took his hand from his boyfriend's knee and placed it on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. Magnus cooled slightly, but still looked at the four adults with discontent.

"That's not true," Luke cut in. "I left his side way before that."

"Only cause you were bitten by a werewolf," Magnus retorted. "You would've been by his side till the attack at the Council, just like them," he added, pointing at the Lightwoods who were watching silently. Luke shook his head back and forth in disagreement.

"I was leaving his side," Luke argued. "I think he set me up. That's why I was in the woods, I was telling him that I was out of the Circle, that his ideas of domination over the Downworlders didn't sit right with me. I think he set me up to get bitten." Maia gasped at that and Jocelyn shook her head in agreement.

"But that doesn't change the fact that you two were by his side when he attacked the signing of the Accords," Magnus retorted, addressing the Lightwoods.

"We didn't know how far he'd gone," Maryse said, shaking her head. "We didn't understand how obsessed he'd gotten at that point." Magnus scoffed.

"No one had," Jocelyn spoke softly, gaining the attention of all. "No one, but me." There were several moments of quiet as Jocelyn prepared herself to tell her story. She took a deep breath and began.

She told them of how Valentine started to become obsessed with his domination over Downworlders and how she felt concerned about her safety. She told them of the experiments Valentine had done on Downworlders, how he'd tortured and killed dozens of innocents and documented all his findings in his journal. She told them of how the pregnancy with Clary's brother had turned from her greatest joy, to her worst nightmare when she'd found his journal underneath their home: it listed, in great detail, how he'd poisoned her with the Greater Demon blood while she was carrying their child in her womb.

"I don't understand," Maia asked, breathless. "Why would he do that to his own kid? To his wife?"

"Valentine was a deeply disturbed man," Luke answered. He'd made his way over to Jocelyn's side during her storytelling to offer her comfort and support as she spoke. Jocelyn had her head rested on his shoulder as his hand rubbed her back lovingly. "His focus was on domination, by any means necessary."

"Are these the experiments of which Father Thomas spoke of when he was entranced?" Alec asked, incredulous. Jocelyn nodded her head.

"I think it is," she spoke softly.

"But he didn't stop with Downworlders and demons," Jace interrupted from his place next to Clary. They both exchanged a loaded glance, agreeing silently that they'd pick up the story from there. Together, they told the group about what they'd discovered in the Wayland mansion, that day they went to find the Book of White for Magnus. They told them of the remnants of a torture chamber, skeletons of Downworlders who'd been his subjects, and a trapped Angel amoung a circle of dark symbols. They spoke of the Angel Ithuriel and of the visions he'd granted them that day they'd released him. They told them of how Valentine has taken the Angel's blood and poisoned both Jocelyn and Jace's mother with it while they carried their babies in their wombs. The group was silent for several minutes after their story was told.

"Amazing," Alec whispered.

"So, that's what Father Thomas meant when he said that a 'Citizen of Heaven' couldn't be trapped by a mortal without that being it's will," Isabelle mused. "The Angel wanted to be imprisoned, so that Valentine could use his blood and y'all would be made the way you are." Jace and Clary nodded.

"Okay," Alec began slowly. "So how did we get to where we are now? I know that Jocelyn fought with Luke to save the attack against the Circle at the signing of the Accords. Then Jocelyn fled, right?" Jocelyn shook her head again.

"My mother left while she was pregnant with me so that Valentine wouldn't find her," Clary answered. "She didn't believe that Valentine had killed himself in that fire he'd set at their home. But she did think that he'd killed my brother as retribution for my mother's treachery."

"How awful," Maia mused, a sad expression on her face.

"I didnt want Clary to lead the life I did," Jocelyn continued. "And I didn't want Valentine to be able to find us. So, I hired Magnus to cloud her vision of the Shadow World, and began my life as a Mundane." Magnus jumped down from his perch and gave a deep bow, as if he was indulging an astounding round of applause. Jace rolled his eyes and his antics, but Clary's brow began to come together in confusion.

"How does Father Thomas figure into that," she asked quickly. "He said that he'd watch me grow from a baby. Didn't you say that he was the one to recommend Magnus?" Jocelyn shook her head in agreement, but there was a twinge of apprehension to her face. Clary knew instinctively that this is where things would start to get dicey.

"I wasnt in the City for very long when Father Thomas approached me," Jocelyn began. "By this time, Luke was gone at my request and I was trying to start a life for you on my own. Imagine my shock when I answer my door to find a Catholic priest at my door that not only can see the Shadow World, but knew everything about me and my unborn child."

"I was hesitant to invite him in, but there was something about him that was so endearing that I immediately trusted him. He came into my home and began to tell me his story. He told me that he was the legendary Oracle – Saint Thomas. Like the others, I'd only a vague recollection of his prophecies, so he filled me in on the rest. When he got to the one about the Angel Children, I immediately panicked. I knew that Valentine had experimented with Downworlders and demon blood, and I was terrified that something might have been wrong with Clarissa. I was terribly upset, but Father Thomas assured me that she was going to be fine. Completely healthy. He told me that he'd watch her from afar and that when the moment came, I was to bring her to him so that he could follow her training."

"After Jace's true parentage was discovered," Maryse continued quickly. "Jocelyn came to us to inform him of his destiny. To say we were reluctant to hear it would be an understatement. But she thought that if we were all informed and on the same page, we could go into the coming events as prepared as we could be, under the circumstances."

"But, why didn't you tell us then?" Jace asked. "Why wait to tell us who we are? You know it's been hard on both of us to learn all of this after the fact. It's been hard for Clary to think that she'd been lied to her whole life. Why keep up the charade? Just tell us the truth?"

"That was Jocelyn's decision," Luke said placatingly. "And she was under orders by Father Thomas himself."

"That doesn't make sense," Clary began to argue, but Jocelyn interrupted her quickly.

"I'm not going to go into any more without Vixie here," Jocelyn said sternly. They all looked at her questioningly

"Why?" Luke asked, but Jocelyn remained silent.

"We don't even know if she's coming back," Jace added, a firm scowl on his face. He wanted everything out in the open, for Clary's sake as much as his own.

"She'll be back," Jocelyn retorted. "It's her duty."

"Her duty?" Isabelle repeated in a worried tone. "What does that mean?"

"Does this have to do with what Father Thomas said to her?" Clary asked, approaching her mother quickly. "What aren't you telling me?" Jocelyn remained silent, looking at her daughter with a deadpanned expression.

Nothing was said for several minutes, but everyone waited on baited breath for Jocelyn to answer. When it was abundantly apparent that she was not going to comment further, Maryse spoke again.

"Jocelyn," she started softly. "I think Jace is right. What if she doesn't return. We need to formulate a game plan with all the cards on the table. We need to know the truth."

"We can do that without her," Jocelyn answered. "I think Clary should stay here. I don't think she should hunt anymore."

"Excuse me?" Clary said, affronted and enraged. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that decision is up to you. I don't take direction from people who hide things from me."

"Your mother's right, Clarissa," Luke spoke sternly as he stood next to Jocelyn, together making a united front of parental authority. Clary was incensed.

"I'm not a child, Luke,"' Clary argued, defiant. Her arms were crossed over her chest and angry tears rimmed her lower lids. Jace stood behind her, rubbing comforting circles on her lower back.

"Clary, it's for your own good," Luke replied, beseeching her to see the logic. "It's safer for you inside the Institute. I think all of us should lay low for awhile," he addressed the group at large.

"We need to be out there," Clary motioned wildly, pointing out to the streets of New York. "We leave the people vulnerable to attack every day we aren't out there fighting. How can you deny them protection." Luke shook hung his head, shaking it slightly in frustration.

"Clary, our priority is you," Jocelyn spoke softly. Several people nodded their heads in agreement. "I'm sorry to say this, but the time has come to protect the greatest asset this world has against evil. And that's you and Jace. Everyone else's safety comes second to that."

"Don't speak to me," Clary held her hand up, cutting off Jocelyn's next words. Jocelyn looked taken aback, stunned.

"E-e-excuse me?" Jocelyn's broken voice asked. "I don't think I like your tone.."

"My tone?" Clary seethed. "You've been lying to me since the day I was born, _mom_" Clary sneered the last. "Is anything you told me the truth. Am I really Valentine's kid, or were you shaking up with someone else?" A sharp thwack sounded throughout the room as Jocelyn's hand came whirling threw the air and landed square on Clary's face, causing her to stumble back into Jace slightly, stunned.

"I am your mother," Jocelyn panted, rage clearly in her eyes. "And you will not speak to me that way." Clary's eyes bore into her mother's as tears of fury and anguish poured from her eyes. Jace's hands were firmly placed on her shoulders, for comfort and for control; he was about to lunge at the seething woman before him for laying a finger on his Clary.

"My mother?" Clary asked, wiping a tear from her cheek as a condescending smile curved her lips. She shook her head softly. "A mother wouldn't keep things, vital things, from her daughter. What else have you lied to me about? What else am I going to discover has been kept from me by the one person who is supposed to love me unconditionally? The person who gave me life?" Jocelyn remained silent, her facial feature stoic. There was an uncomfortable silence for several minutes as Clary and Jocelyn stared at each other.

Luke took a hesitant step forward, edging his way between the two women. He placed one palm on Jocelyn's trembling shoulder, as means for comfort and restraint. Jocelyn broke her eye contact with Clary and stared at the ground as several tears rimmed her lower eyelashes.

"I don't expect you to forgive me for all my deceit," she whispered softly. "Just know that I did everything I did because I love you. You are my life, Clary. And I would move heaven and earth to keep you safe. If that meant lying to you, keeping this foul world hidden from you for a time, then that's what I did. I never meant to hurt you, only protect you. Always." Jocelyn turned slowly towards the door, but Clary's next words stopped her.

"Don t you dare walk away from me," Clary spat. "From all of us." She threw her hands out wide, gesturing to the silent observers among them. They hadn't said a word through the last couple minutes, only listening to the exchange between Clary, Luke and Jocelyn. "You owe us all an explanation. Not just me, mom."

Jocelyn pulled herself up straight and angled her chin up high. She made a swiping pass with her eyes to the room at large, but not actually making eye contact with any of them.

"I owe them nothing," Jocelyn said icily.

"Excuse me," Isabelle said, rising from her spot on Simon's lap and standing with both hands on her hips. "We've put our lives in danger without all the facts. Information, which seems, you've known about all along. How can you say you don't owe us anything. We could have died out there. I could've been raped..." she trailed off, not able to finish against the raging lump in her throat. Jocelyn looked down to the floor.

"I'm sorry for that," she spoke softly.

"Sorry?" Clary asked, incredulous. "That's not good enough. We need to know it all, mom. Now."

"I cant," Jocelyn said, pained. Her brow furrowed against the onslaught of guilt and emotion. "I need Vixie..."

"She's not coming back," Jace spoke sternly. Everyone's eyes fell to him, questioningly. Jace looked around, taking all of their quizzical expressions in. "Oh come on. Don't you all see?" A pregnant pause filled the room as they all waited on baited breath for Jace to continue.

"Vixie's the traitor," he spat, raising his eyes in finality. Maia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Maryse and Robert looked stern, while Isabelle muttered profanities under her breath. The rest remained silent. "It's obvious. Why else would she leave just like that, with half of her companions heavily wounded? Why else hasn't she returned? She is the traitor among us, the one the Angel Ithuriel warned us about. And you knew about it, didn't you?" he asked Jocelyn, pointing a finger at her accusingly. Jocelyn's gaze never left the ground, but she did not confirm or deny Jace's allegation.

"It doesn't make sense," Luke replied, his eyes wide as he stared at Jocelyn. "She couldn't be. She's been fighting along side you all for a long time. She wouldn't put herself a risk like that. For what purpose?"

"That would make sense," Simon answered softly, not showing any emotion. "It would explain how we kept being ambushed over and over again. She would have known where we were and when were the most vulnerable."

"But the first two times, at Taki's and after Jace's party, she wasnt part of the team then," Clary clarified. "She couldn't have known then."

"Unless she was spying on us from the beginning," Alec answered, speculatively. "She could've been trailing us even back then, testing our weaknesses and our strengths. That would explain how the demons had gotten stronger by the time they'd attacked us in the cemetery. They also knew the separate us as much as possible."

"But Vixie was there," Maia retorted, a tinge of hope and disbelief in her voice. "She was fighting right beside us. She saved me, she saved several of us that night. She wouldn't have done that if she was the traitor. She could've just fanned injury and not gotten to us in time. Then, the demons would've taken Clary and been done with it all. Why would she stall them if that was her inevitable goal?"

"Because it gave her time to get to know us better," Jace spat, closing his eyes tightly under the heavy rage building in him. Hindsight is always 20/20, but Jace could've killed himself for not seeing it clearly before. He never did trust her completely, but he should have known that she would turn on them. She'd given her word that she wouldn't betray them, but Faeries are the creators of lies and guile. "It gave her the opportunity to earn our trust in her. Well, most of us anyway. I never did trust that treacherous snake..."

"I don't understand," Maryse cut in, addressing the still silent Jocelyn. "If you knew about this, why didn't you say anything? She's you daughter, Jocelyn. Why in the hell would you put her at risk like that?"

"She was never at risk," Jocelyn muttered among gasps of disapproval. Her statement was as good as a confession, and everyone looked at her incredulous.

"Mom," Clary gasped, her voice trembling in pain and anger.

"What the hell," Jace spat, reaching his arms around to comfort a trembling Clary. Luke stood there stock silent, his fists opening and closing in his rage. Maryse and Robert stared at Jocelyn, shocked. Alec began pacing back and forth, trying to piece it all together, looking for the validity of it all. But Magnus sat on his perch at the desk, a small smile on his lips as he swung his legs back and forth. He seemed to be entertaining a private joke, one that was missed by his outraged companions.

"You better start explaining," Luke growled after several minutes. Jocelyn just shook her head in defiance.

"Maybe I could do that," a melodic voice echoed among the room. Everyone looked toward the entryway with mixed emotions on their faces.

"Vixen," Jocelyn breathed, relieved. Vixie stood in the door way, her hair long down her back, her yellow eyes looking among her audience heavily. She wore a smooth satin black dress, the most casual any of them had ever seen her. And she had a look of serenity on her face. "I can provide the answers you need."

"Oh goody," Magnus clapped from the desk, glitter sprinkling on the ground in his excitement. "Does this mean we can stop pretending now? It's been incredibly exhausting." Alec looked at him, slightly taken aback. Jocelyn just smiled smoothly, looking between Magnus and Vixie.

"Yes, Magnacious," she said coolly. "It's time they knew the truth."

* * *

**AN: ****Welcome to all the new readers to this story! Seriously, it blew my mind how many people added it to favs/alerts this past update. Hope you are enjoying the ride.**

**Want to give mad props to my guest beta, Xox Craisy Daisy Oxo. She had graciously agreed to review my work while EBP is taking a break for school stuff. She is the best!!! For all of those who are waiting for me to update my other story, Sing for me Sweet, I decided to take a break on it until I could find a really good beta to work on it with me. So, if anyone is interested, let me know through a PM.**

**_Readers who review get a sneak peek at the next chapter. So, let me know what you think!!!_**


	23. Chapter 22 The Three Deceptives

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Chapter 22 - The Three Deceptives

"What the fuck?" Jace spat as he looked at Magnus with dark suspicion.

"What the hell is going on?" Luke asked, a slight growl in his voice.

"Magnus?" Alec asked, looking at his boyfriend with a crestfallen expression on his face. Magnus wouldn't meet his questioning look; he only stared at Vixie expectantly, a small smile curving his lips.

There was silence for several minutes as the company looked between the three of them: Vixie, Jocelyn, and Magnus. Occasionally, small glances were exchanged between the group, each silently asking each other what was going on.

Magnus just sat on the mahogany desk with a sly smile on his face. Jocelyn looked..._relieved?_...as she looked at Vixie like she was the embodiment of the second coming, completely serene as her face melted from the anguish and anxiety it held only moments ago. But it was Vixie who held the rapt attention of the group. She stood in the door way for several minutes, taking in the their collective stares with an blank face. After several moments, she turned towards the door, giving the group her back as she closed the library doors, effectively closing them in and blocking their only means for escape.

"Ummm, what's going on?" Maia asked, obviously being a little hesitant to the idea of being held in a room with the three people in question. She unconsciously moved from her position near the buffet table and walked towards her pack leader, Luke. She'd always felt safer in his presence and she wanted to be on her guard…just in case? In case of what? Did she really think she needed to be prepared to fight…Jocelyn? Magnus? If any of them, certainly Vixie; even though she'd come to trust the faerie, she didn't really know her all that well. A fact that was becoming extremely vexing at the moment.

Simon had risen from the chair he'd shared with Isabelle and stood protectively in front of his mate. His blue eyes sparkled serenely as he took in all his surroundings, becoming acutely aware of everyone's position in the room; his senses heightened. Even though his mind was calm, his body was preparing for a fight.

Robert and Maryse automatically took ranks beside Luke, bracing themselves for attack purely on instinct fueled by years of Shadowhunter training. Tension rose in the room as each person sized the three of them up, trying to decide if they remained friend, or were their hidden foe.

Jace was next to Clary, his posture tense and muscles coiled. The tips of his fingers were playing with the hilt of a seraph blade he had tucked between the back of his jeans. His mind was reeling, thinking of all possible outcomes to the coming confrontation. He had a feeling that the traitor would be revealed today and he couldn't wait to meet the treacherous snake with the end of his knife, even if it was Jocelyn…

Clary just stared at her mother, not really looking at Vixie at all. Her mother's face held her attention above all else. Jocelyn had looked calm, content, and extremely comforted when Vixie had entered the room. Why? Jocelyn had so many secrets that Clary started to worry whether her mother had been the traitor all along. Did that even make sense though? There were so many opportunities in the past where Jocelyn could've turned her daughter over to the enemy. She couldn't be the traitor, could she?

Vixie stood by the door for several minutes, staring at the ground as she took in several deep breaths as if to calm herself. She looked up from the floor and saw that everyone's eyes were locked on her. She held them as a captive audience as she began to speak.

"I'm sorry that I've been delayed," she began slowly. "I had some...things to discuss with my Queen, Alexan." Was it Clary's imagination, or was that anger she heard creep into Vixie's voice and flash across her face. Why would Vixie be angry at the Seelie Queen? She racked her brain, thinking of a reason why the Queen would need to be informed of what had transpired over the last several days, and why her reactions to the news would cause Vixie pause. She couldn't come up with any answers, but Clary tucked that tid bit of information away for later recall.

"Why did you have to go to the Queen?" Maia asked innocently. But Vixie did not answer, she only exchanged a heated glance with Jocelyn before she ignored the question outright.

"There are some things we need to discuss," Vixie started again. "And I've been given permission to reveal some of my secrets to you all." Everyone was silent, hanging on the edge of their proverbial seats in rapt anxiety for her to continue.

"Wait," Jocelyn interrupted, a hitch in her voice. "I need to tell her first...alone." Vixie stared at Jocelyn for several beats as they seemed to divulge in a silent conversation. Clary started to become extremely nervous. How did Jocelyn and Vixie become so close? So close, in fact, that they had a hidden understanding between each other, where words were not necessary to communicate their thoughts. Clary didn't share that kind of connection with her mother. When did her and Vixie build this familiarity? How were they able to develop this relationship? When? Once again, Clary seethed inside as another one of her mother's secrets came to light.

Clary was so deep into her inner musings that she missed the final exchange between Vixie and Jocelyn, but Clary figured that the faerie had given her approval because Jocelyn approached Clary, reaching out to grab her arm in order to whisk her away to somewhere private. Clary snapped out of her thoughts and pulled her arm away from her mother's grasp.

"I am not going anywhere with you," Clary spat, her eyes narrowed in indignation. Jace stepped closer to her side, ready to lend Clary aide if needed. He angled his body so that half of him was practically blocking off Jocelyn's access to her. Jocelyn stared at Clary, anger in her eyes laced with a tinge of pain and guilt.

"I don't trust you, Mom. I'm sorry to say that, but its true. You've given me no reason to trust you and every reason to doubt you. If you have something you need to say, say it here...in front of my friends: the people I can trust."

"Clary," Jocelyn began as she took several steps backwards, her eyes melting into reluctance and regret. "There are some things that may be hard for you to hear. It would be better if you were alone when they are revealed." Clary didn't answer; her posture held firm as she kept her eyes glued on her mother's silent retreat, trying to see the truth in her eyes. When Clary didn't answer, Jocelyn finally broke their gaze. She turned and looked to Vixie, slightly nodding her permission for the faerie to continue.

Clary couldn't really have cared less what other secrets might be revealed about her. She was so damn sick of the lies and deceit she could scream. She took a quick inventory of the people around her, the people she was closest to. And with a sharp pain of realization, it donned on her that there was only one person in the room who had been truly honest with her in the past.

Her mother had kept so many secrets from her: about her past, her father, where she came from…the list was endless. And her accomplice all those years, although a reluctant one, was Luke. He'd kept her mother's secrets and had even aided her in shielding Clary from the truth. Magnus, of course, had been the one to cloud her memory, and now it seemed, he had other secrets as well. Maryse and Robert had known about her and Jace being a part of the legend of the Angel Children for over six months, and had never said a word about it. They continued to put on masks of contentment, as if recent events were ordinary or tedious, common in the life of a Shadowhunter. Only when Simon changed did Maryse reveal what she knew. Even Alec and Isabelle knew of Jace's history with Vixie and had forgotten to divulge that tid bit of information to her. You'd think that it would be notable to know that your boyfriend had once been enslaved by a sadistic, sex-crazed faerie. Apparently, not to them. Jace had kept the Angel Iutheriel's visit at the lake from her as well. And even now, she couldn't be confident that he'd revealed all the Angel had said to him. She had a feeling he was holding something else back. Finally, there was Vixie; and she was overflowing with secrets….

Maia. Only Maia had ever been completely honest with her. The little werewolf was so sweet and refreshingly genuine that Clary began to feel complete gratitude towards her friendship. How did Clary end up surrounded by people who lied to her constantly? She began to feel utterly alone and lost, but her reverie was broken seconds later by the soft, tinkling voice of Vixie.

"I have been a member of the Seelie Court for three hundred years," Vixie began, looking to the ground as she spoke. "In that time I have learned a great deal about the inner workings of the Court. As many of you have suspected, the Queen has been a key player behind the scenes for many years." Jace growled at that, for his suspicions had been confirmed. When it had been revealed that Beelzebub was the father of the faeries, offspring from his mating with the women of Babylon, he'd suspected that the Seelie Queen was in alliance with the Greater Demon, working to influence the Shadow World to _his_ needs. Jace's fingers clenched around the hilt of his blade, preparing. Vixie ignored his outburst and continued.

"She is not what you think, however. She has been fighting for good for a very long time. Along side with Saint Thomas, they have both set things in motion to prepare the world for what is to come."

"Why would she do that?" Isabelle asked quickly, doubt in her voice.

"For a long time, she believed that the Shadowhunters sought to destroy Downworlders. Things between the two groups were always tense, on the verge of an all out war."

"That was a very long time ago," Robert interrupted sternly. "Relations between us have been shaky at times, but we've had a understanding among the groups for decades." Vixie nodded in agreement.

"Yes," she granted. "But my Queen has lived for a very long time. She was part of the generation that witnessed the genocide of the Downworlders. The Fey, in particular, were singled out as the worst because of our tendency for deceit: woven lies out of spoken truths."

"A tendency, it seems, that remains to be alive and well," Jace growled as he stared daggers at Vixie. She ignored him once again.

"She was also alive when the prophecies of The Oracle first surfaced. Saint Thomas was a young boy then, but the rumors of his visions reached her ears. She was intrigued to say the least; it fascinated her that a mere mundane would be gifted the visions from Heaven. The Queen sought out the young Saint Thomas when he was only thirteen, planning to ask him about his visions. At the time, he was under heavy observation by the Clave. They trained him as a Shadowhunter, teaching him the ways of combat so that he could defend himself if anyone were to capture him and use his visions against the Clave. They had him under lock and key, so to speak, because his visions were so raw. They mostly dealt with destruction, coming wars and natural disasters. Soon, his visions proved to be, not only incredibly accurate, but a way for the Clave to claim that they alone were the decisive leaders of Heaven's rule here on Earth; that they were the voice of the Angel Raziel. To confirm this proclamation, they used their swift intercession of horrific tragedies predicted by The Oracle as proof of their position."

"The Angel gave us the Book of Grey," Robert spat, indignation in his voice. "He didn't give it to Downworlders or a mere Mundane. He gave it to us, the Nephilium, so that we could use it to battle evil. How else would we interpret that gift if not for us to be the intercessors."

"It should surprise you then to learn that that's _not _how it happened," Magnus retorted, his voice stern and posture rigid. Robert looked at him, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"By all means," Robert growled. "Enlighten us…_Magnacious?_ Is that even your real name or do you go by something else….like, Traitor? Judas? Lucifer? How long have you been lying to my family? To my son?" Robert took two steps towards Magnus perched on the desk, malice and anger sparking in his eyes. Alec stood in front of his father with his hands held up. Luke grabbed one of Robert's arms to halt his progression forward.

As Robert and Magnus seemed to be in a heated lockdown, Alec remained quiet for several minutes; but internally, a war was brewing. He felt like he was split in two: half of him shouting warnings at himself, heeding that it was plausible for Magnus to be the traitor; after all, Magnus was a secretive person by nature. He never really let Alec know too much about himself or of his history. Magnus had lived a long time, longer than any Mundane or Shadowhunter could live. Over three hundred years old, Magnus had lived a full and vivacious life. A life that Alec knew little about. He'd always been evasive about his past, claiming that the sordid details would only bore Alec to tears. And Alec had accepted that at the time, because he'd no reason to question Magnus's motives. Only in the bedroom had he let Alec close; a sick part of him screamed that maybe that was part of Magnus's plan: to allow Alec in intimately in order to blind him to the truth. But could Magnus really betray him like that?

The second part of Alec beseeched the other half to see reason; this half of him was the part that was in love with Magnus, that trusted him and held him to the highest regard. Magnus couldn't be the traitor, it shouted. They'd shared too much together, been explicitly intimate with each other; he'd given too much of himself over to this man: his body, heart and mind. They'd fought side by side with each other, and Magnus had saved him several times from peril. Some of those times, Magnus had placed himself in harms way to save him and the others; the events in the Cathedral, when Magnus had fought one against three so that Alec could get himself and Clary out of danger, were proof of that. Those were not the actions of a traitor; it wouldn't make sense to put himself in danger just to then turn around and stab them in the back at a later time.

But still...

What about Katia? She was obviously part of his past, knew him from a previous life. She had hinted to as much when they fought in the Cathedral; Alec alone knew about the conversation that had taken place between Katia and Magnus then. He was the only one who knew that Alec and her had been acquainted because everyone else was injured or preoccupied when Magnus fought the witch. Alec had tried to defend Magnus, coming to his side to fight the evil he faced head on. But Magnus had turned him away, told him to find Clary and get her out of there while he distracted their enemies. But why? Why did he send him away? At the time, it had infuriated Alec that Magnus would not except his help. But in reflection, it had bothered him even more so that Magnus had seemed to know Katia rather well, based on the exchange between them. She'd called him her 'pet', not a name that'd he would've thought Magnus would have accepted without retribution; he was not a man that handled belittling at all.

But yet, Magnus had accepted her blatant sexual innuendos with little sense of propriety. He'd even returned a few jabs back at her, further confirming he'd known her intimately. Alec knew that Magnus had once taken women as his chosen lovers. He'd never delved into the details behind those relationships, but Alec knew that there had been several women he'd bedded while 'discovering his true desires'. Was Katia one of those women? Did their relationship stop at just sex?

Obviously, the two had some sort of relationship together and the underlying sense of that relationship was not innocent. Alec knew of Katia; her rumored past dealings were followed by a trail of death and destruction, causing a long time problem for the Shadowhunters. She'd always been a pain to deal with, a hired huntress that would take any form of payment for her services, as long as it fit her needs. Although her henchmen had changed over time, she was always just as brutal, just as ominous. Alec began to think upon Magnus's well-known sense of greed; he used to only offer his services as High Warlock of New York for a heavy price. When their relationship was in its early stages, Magnus would constantly throw the fact that he wasn't charging Alec or the Lightwoods for his healing/portals/spell work in his face. When he'd first joined the hunting team, Magnus was distant, only offering his aide for healing and not fighting at all. He'd claimed it left him more time to earn money on the side. It seem implausible that Magnus would have developed this love of money later in life. Perhaps he'd always had it. Perhaps he'd been driven by it. Is that why he knew Katia? Had he worked for her in the past?

Alec was lost in his inner turmoil while Vixie continued urgently.

"I know that there are a lot of questions," she hurried, coming forward into the center of the room so that the attention could focus on her for the moment. "And, I promise you, we will get to them all. But please, let me finish." Robert stepped back from Magnus under Luke's murmured words of calm. Alec did not return to his place beside Magnus, however. He took several steps toward his sister, Isabelle. She reached out and took his hand tightly, giving him the little bit of comfort he needed at the moment, for he looked completely forlorn as thousands of questions floated beneath his eyes. Magnus looked like he was oblivious to the change, but inside, he was tormented.

"As the confidence of the Clave's divine purpose and dominion over others grew, relations between the groups suffered. It was at this point that things between the Nephilium and Downworlders intensified," Vixie began again, hurriedly. It was obvious that things were getting tense among the group, and there were topics that needed to be out in the open before all hell broke loose. "There were several members among the Clave that felt the destruction of the Downworlders was appropriate. They were threatened by the power the different races held. These powers were seen as evil, based on demon influence and disease. Since the Angel had supposedly gifted the Nephilium with the job of Heaven's vengeance and morality, some believed that the Downworlders should be grouped in the same category as the demons."

"Not to mention, most of us knew the truth about the Blessed Book of Grey," Magnus sneered.

"We were looked at to be a huge threat to their ideals of world domination, a world rid of demon filth," Vixie continued over Magnus's mumblings. She braced herself internally, for she knew this next part would be hard for some of them to hear. "There was the initiation of the _Malum Venator: _Hunters of Evil. They were small groups of elite Shadowhunters trained specifically for the elimination of the Downworlder Covens. They fought mercilessly to rid the world of the Downworlders, one house at a time."

"That is ridiculous," Maryse argued.

"Why haven't I ever heard of them?" Isabelle asked, skeptically.

"They were a covert group," Jocelyn answered quickly, hoping that hearing the truth from a Shadowhunter might aide their speed of acceptance. "Not many among the Nephilium knew of their existence, and it was not something that was spoken about in later generations. Only those in the highest ranks knew of their existence. It was 'top secret', I guess you could say."

"And how do you know of them then?" Maryse retorted, head cocked to the side, eyebrows raised as disbelief plainly coated her face.

"Valentine knew of them," Jocelyn answered. "I don't know how he learned of them, though. But his ultimate plan was to resurrect this group. His intentions were for the Circle to take on their motto of Nephilium Domination once he'd disrupted the signing of the Accords." Maryse looked at her in disbelief.

"He'd never told us about that," she answered quickly, shaking her head slightly.

"He told _me _about them," Luke answered softly. "Being his number one at the time, he confided in me about their 'legend', but he'd never said he wanted the Circle to become them incarnate. He only spoke about them and what their purpose was. It was the reverence in his voice as he spoke of their savage tactics against innocent Downworlders that initially triggered my reluctance to his ultimate goals. That was back when I started questioning his motives, before I'd been bitten."

"They were also mentioned in the journals Valentine kept," Jocelyn continued. "Mostly, they were just scribbled declarations and ideals based on their beliefs, but I think he was experimenting with Downworlders so he could decipher their weaknesses to aide his fight against them. But more so, he wanted to learn how their powers manifested at a cellular level, so that he could eventually duplicate them by tweaking the genes of Nephilium blood. I don't know if he ever experimented on anyone but himself. But that thought continues to haunt my dreams."

"But how does that relate to what's happening with Clary?" Maryse asked.

"It doesn't," Jocelyn answered.

"But its important to understand," Vixie said, her voice smooth as she explained. "The group was brutal in their tactics. They'd kill innocent Downworlders mercilessly and blamed their deaths on demon attacks. The Clave would claim that demons were out of control, sending out hunting parties to 'aide' the Downworlders, when in reality, they sent the _Malum Venator_."

"The Children of Moon, Fey, Lilith , and Night attempted to unite under the covert onslaught by the Clave, but our differences were too much to come to any kind of truce. Instead, Alexan formed a group of resistance with several members of the different covens. Magnus and I were on that team." There was silence for several minutes while everyone looked between Magnus and Vixie. Magnus just smiled and waved his little fingers 'hello' as everyone looked at him, stunned.

"The next decade was bloody," Vixie continued. "There were many deaths and the streets ran red with the innocent blood of Downworlders. The death toll climbed so high, in fact, the Clave had to create stories of mass demon invasions to cover their tracks." Isabelle gasped, covering her mouth with her small hand.

"The attack at Des Moines was the _Malum Venator,_" Vixie stated bluntly. Isabelle remembered learning about it, for it had been a legendary, bloody, and deathly event that was told over the years to young Shadowhunters in training. A large coven of werewolves that had resided in Des Moines had been brutally attacked and eaten by a large Traceor demon that had somehow entered their realm by a young, experimenting Warlock. A Traceor demon was also known as a Shadow King, for their home realm was a dark Astral Plane. They took on the form of a blackened cloud until they manifested into their physical form, a large reptilian creature that made Godzilla look like a gentle giant. During the attack, hundreds of Mundanes were killed as well. The Mundies blamed it on an Earthquake, while the Shadowhunters claimed the demon had been responsible. The story served a lesson to the young Shadowhunters; the moral: evil attacks anyone, anywhere, with no reason or logic. For Isabelle to learn that the Clave had ultimately been responsible for that attack was…heartbreaking.

"About five years later, Saint Thomas's visions began changing," Vixie explained. "They were more devastating in nature, and more obtuse. He had a hard time deciphering their meaning and the Clave worked diligently to aide him in fear that they would miss something vital. They became frustrated with Saint Thomas as his visions began to make little sense. They were becoming less and less helpful to the Clave's needs, and Saint Thomas's vision became less frequent.

"He did have one though, perhaps his most prophetic. This is when the vision of the Angel Children came into play. Initially, the visions of the Angel Children were peaceful. Saint Thomas was blessed with heavenly visions of a rapturistic world where the Angel Children helped lead the Nephilium during a great time of calm and peace. There was no fighting among the different sects and Idris flourished in harmony and tranquility. He'd even seen angels walking the Earth, side by side with their Nephilium warriors. The Angel Children were the vectors for that peace, and they helped rule among the Clave."

"At first, the Clave took this vision as a sign that they were on the right track. To those who knew about the covert group of assassins, it was proof that what they did was justified, for it would lead them to that peaceful ending. In a round about way, they were right. But not because they would destroy the Downworlders and demons, leaving this world free from evil, but because of their attacks, our group of resistance was formed. It was when Saint Thomas had a distinct vision of Downworlders working side by side with the Shadowhunters, standing among the angels on Earth in that peaceful ending, that things started to turn around for us. As you know, Saint Thomas was disregarded by the Clave because of that particular vision. It closed the lid on his proverbial coffin, leading the Clave to decide that he was becoming senile in his old age and his visions were taken as hallucinations more than prophecies. The Angel Children became a myth, passed on through the generations as a vague bedtime story. Saint Thomas was rumored to have gone into hiding, perhaps to have died along time ago. But that angelic vision was not all that he saw."

"What did he see?" Maia whispered softly, so enthralled with the story that she'd let her guard down completely. Her eyes were wide and her attention rapt on Vixie's every word. Vixie smiled, indulgently. She'd always liked Maia.

"Apparently, Saint Thomas was not being completely honest with the Clave," Vixie answered.

"Figures," Jace scoffed, but Vixie ignored him.

"His visions weren't all that confusing as he'd led the Clave to believe. In fact, they were down right direct in their meaning. But Saint Thomas had also seen the brutality of the _Malum Venator _through his visions, something the Clave worked tirelessly to keep hidden from him. Additionally, the majority of the Council members began to fight among each other, all dueling for power and control of the Council. They'd spread rumors and back stab each other as bitter politics spread through the hierarchy. Based on their shady behavior, Saint Thomas began to question the Clave's motives. They'd always been viewed as this supreme group of elite, chosen by Heaven to care for the helpless on Earth and guard them from the evils of the demonic realms. But he was quickly realizing the Council was poisoned from within. He decided to keep his reported visions 'murky'. Secretly, he began working with Alexan on the sly."

"Why would he go against the Clave?" Maryse asked, anger in her tone.

"Why wouldn't he?" Magnus retorted. "It's not like he had any loyalties to them. He was a Mundane, after all, kept alive through the years by 'Divine Intervention', as he called it. There was no Nephilium blood running in his veins, so he had no obligation to them."

"And he didn't approve of the Clave's secret team of assassins," Vixie continued. "That top of covert operation went strictly against the world his Angel Children vision depicted. And he was so entranced by that idea, he worked tirelessly to preserve it. He felt repelled by what the Clave was doing, so he aided the Downworlders instead. ."

"I am so confused," Maia said, shaking her head as if to shake to clouds of mystification from it. "So, Father Thomas was working with the Seelie Queen against the Clave?"

"No," Jocelyn said sternly. "Not against the Clave, directly. His only goal was to see the world of the Angel Children come to fruition. And so, Father Thomas began aiding the Downworlders against the _Malum Venator_ because they went directly against his goal. You have to remember that most of the Nephilium didn't know that this group existed. They were incredibly secretive and good at keeping that cover. Father Thomas worked with the Downworlders to help them avoid complete and utter destruction."

"Oh," Maia nodded. "But how did the group finally become disbanded?" Vixie looked at Jocelyn quickly, both sharing a knowing glance.

"We don't know if they ever did," Jocelyn spoke softly as Maia gasped at her words. "They just stopped their raids all together, almost as if they'd disappeared. It was like they'd never existed in the first place."

"You see," Vixie attempted to clarify. "Saint Thomas helped Alexan and the Downworlders intercede any of their attacks against unsuspecting, innocent Downworlders. He would have a vision of where they planned to attack, then we would intervene and ambush them. We killed many, but not all. As their numbers started to dwindle, so did their raids."

"But, I am sure that there are many Nephilium among the Clave that hold on to the old way of thinking," Luke muttered, drawing the attention to him.

"It wouldn't surprise me that a group like that would be behind the attacks at the new, integrated Council," Robert muttered to Luke. The werewolf nodded solemnly.

"So then, how do we get here?" Isabelle asked. "How is it you became involved with Alexan and the others. Where did Father Thomas fit in with the prophecies of Clary and Jace?"

"After the disappearance of the _Malum Venator_, things finally started to settle down," Vixie answered. "But Saint Thomas began to have Apocalyptic visions of the world's destruction. He spoke of vast wars with demonic creatures, the sheer numbers of which would wipe out the entire world. He told us that in those visions, he saw Downworlders and Shadowhunters fighting side by side against an onslaught of demonic power the world had never seen. We were all hesitant to believe him because of our history with the Nephilium, but Saint Thomas was adamant that things would be different in the future. He also learned of a new way to communicate with Heaven directly. He'd go into a trance-like state, and an Angel would possess his body. Alexan would sit in with him when he'd go into these trances, and she was able to ask the angels questions directly. She learned many things, most of which she does not speak of to this day. But she was convinced that the visions of a serene world Saint Thomas spoke of were true, a world where Downworlders were finally at peace, and she became more dedicated to the cause than even Saint Thomas himself."

Vixie's posture became slightly rigid, a subtle hint to the coming heinous tale she would weave. She knew the next couple of minutes would be intense for all involved, especially Clary and her mother. But they had to know the truth if they had any hope of defeating the evil threatening the world. They had to be on the same page, on the same team. Vixie just hoped they could all understand her reasonings for doing what she did. But she hoped beyond anything else, that Jace would understand. She braced her self internally for what would happen next, and continued her story.

"For the next several decades, Alexan worked with Saint Thomas behind the scenes, using his visions as a guide to shape events in the Shadow World. He learned of Valentine and his plans for world domination years before Valentine was even born. They both watched as the young, vibrant Shadowhunter grew and started to gain authority. Alexan was convinced at the time that Valentine was the one who'd bring chaos to the world. She was sure he'd take over the Clave with his infamous Circle, and use his control to enslave the Downworlders. She could not allow that to happen and planned to assassinate Valentine herself. But Saint Thomas stopped her hand. He convinced her that Valentine was just the catalyst; that the Angel Ithuriel would sacrifice himself to years of torture at the hands of the crazed man in order to pass his blood onto two children. These children were the main characters of his infamous legend of the Angel Children. Alexan found this news to be intriguing, but still did not see why she should allow Valentine to succeed. It bothered her that the world's fate depended on two Shadowhunter children. She was extremely hesitant towards the Nephilium, and found it hard to trust a prophetic future to them."

"With good reason," Magnus muttered.

"If you have such a disdain for the Nephilium," Alec burst out, his vivid blue eyes searing into Magnus's indulgent face. "Then why do you bed one every chance you get?"

"Perhaps to get you to trust me," Magnus spat back. Alec took a couple staggered steps back, as if Magnus had slapped him. His vengeful words echoed Alec's darkest fears: he _had _been taken advantage of; he _had _been used like a mere pawn.

"Bitch," Isabelle growled at Magnus. The Warlock smiled sweetly, but it did not reach his eyes.

"Back at you, sweet tits," Magnus replied, blowing Isabelle a small kiss on a wave of his painted fingers. Simon growled low in his chest. Vixie hurried on before the situation could escalate further.

"Eventually, Alexan gave her complete trust to Saint Thomas. After Valentine left the public eye, the two of them made a point to watch the children grow from infancy. They followed their every move, witnessed their every sneeze and…"

"So," Jace interrupted heatedly. "Father Thomas knew Valentine was alive after everyone thought he was dead, burned to death in the fire at the manor? He'd have to, if he'd been watching me throughout my childhood. He knew Valentine was pretending to be Michael Wayland?" Vixie nodded shortly. "And he did nothing about it?" Vixie shook her head quickly. "Why?"

"Perhaps the most difficult part of this whole thing," she answered softly. "Is to have to sit back and watch horrible events unfold, knowing that the ultimate outcome is good and just. The path to that goal may not be easy, or fair, but the outcome is what matters in the end. Saint Thomas kept an eye on you, but he did not intercede. Valentine's treatment of you, although deceitful and cruel at times, made you the man you are today. Although it was not easy, it was what you needed. Saint Thomas had faith in that and allowed you to remain in that situation."

"Who was he to judge?" Jace spat, his eyes narrowing at Vixie. "How did he know I wouldn't have been better off with someone else? Anyone else?"

"He was a prophet," Jocelyn answered, a soothing tone in her voice only a mother could offer. "He was privileged to information and cognition that no one else possessed. He was the only one who had actually seen future events unfold. Yes, some of his visions were confusing at times, like the ones about Simon. But for the most part, Father Thomas knew how things were going to happen, maybe not in a specific order, but he had a general idea how things needed to proceed."

"So that's where you three come in?" Clary asked, her speech clipped and her face stern. "You three have been behind the scenes, acting as god damned puppeteers while we went about our lives oblivious." Clary turned to her mother as she continued her rave. "I'm guessing this is why you hid me from the Shadow World. And how you knew to use Magnus to cloud my vision. Father Thomas told you to go to him." Jocelyn nodded in reply.

"But why all the hiding?" Isabelle asked. "Why not just come out and tell us who you all were?"

"Father Thomas warned us," Vixie answered. "He said that there would be significant signs that would tell us when you were all to know the truth. For the most part, we barely had to intercede at all. Things just started happening naturally. When Jocelyn fled from Valentine with Clary in vitro, Father Thomas approached her. He told her about his visions and the importance of the child she carried. She was shocked at first, but quickly heeded to his instructions when she learned of the coming doom. She moved to New York so that Alexan could watch her, guard her from anyone seeking her destruction. Saint Thomas took refuge at St. Patrick's, converted to Catholicism and became Father Thomas. Valentine had come looking for him, probably hoping to use him and his visions in some way, but Saint Thomas avoided him. Magnus was stationed as Clary's guard, protecting not only her mind from the Shadow World, but her body as well." Vixie turned to Clary, addressing her astonished face directly.

"He placed wards around your home, keeping both you and Jocelyn hidden from Valentine all those years. Only at the end did he let those wards fall, for it was time for Clary to be introduced to the Shadow World. And, once again, Valentine served as the conduit. Jocelyn took the potion Ragnor Fell provided so that she could not be tortured into giving Valentine information about Clary. Fell was also part of our group."

"What signs did he tell you to look for?" Maia asked. Vixie and Jocelyn shared a loaded glance, then Vixie began again.

"He said that a boy would appear, not a vampire or a man, but something in the middle. The vision was unclear, but he said that when we saw him, we'd know it was him." She looked at Simon and spoke again. "I didn't think that I'd witness his transformation before my eyes." There was silence for several minutes as they all took in the significance of what she said.

"But that was not the only sign Magnus and I saw that day," Vixie said quietly. "The ring, the one Jace gave Clary. That was the second sign."

"That's why you reacted the way you did, right?" Maia realized excitedly. "When Isabelle told you that Jace asked Clary to marry him. It was the second sign"

"Saint Thomas told us that we should keep things hidden until these key events took place," Vixie started slowly, avoiding Maia's question directly; other things needed to be addressed first. She glided closer into the center of the room, angling her body toward Clary and Jace as she spoke. "He was very adamant that things should happen naturally. There was only one time when we had to interfere with the natural flow of things. That is when I took you, Jace." He looked at her questioningly as Maryse and Isabelle gasped in awareness.

"That's why..." Isabelle trailed off, her hand raised towards her mouth.

"So you didn't get to use him a sex slave?" Maia asked. Then she grumbled, "where's the fun in that?"

"Why?" Clary spat, the rage inside her boiling to the surface.

"It had to be done," Vixie continued, looking directly at Clary. "You two were on the verge of meeting, and you were not at a point where you could've handled the Shadow World. Saint Thomas believed that you were so young and fragile and couldn't handle the pressures of it. He also said that once you two met, there would be no stopping the love that would instantly build between the two of you. Your attraction to one another was built in your DNA, causing each other to be drawn to one another like magnets. He deplored Alexan to send someone to distract Jace so that he couldn't meet you. So she sent me. I was her most fearless warrior, and she needed someone who could take on the infamous Jace Wayland, physically if necessary."

"It was you," Jace grunted, his eyes narrowing. "You're the one that helped me slay that Enterly demon, aren't you." Vixie nodded minutely. "Why don't I remember the rest of it? I remember dancing at the club, looking for the demon scum the Institute was tipped about. I remember fighting it, then seeing you vaguely. The rest of it's completely gone. The next thing I know, Maryse and Isabelle are taking me out of the Seelie Court. What happened?"

"I drugged you at the club," Vixie answered. "I took you back to the Seelie Court and then kept you there for a time."

"Why?" Clary growled, her anger seething inside. Simon reached out his hand to hold Clary from attacking Vixie. He'd always seemed to be able to read Clary, knowing when she was about to loose her mind. He was right in that moment, for Clary was seeing red.

"Did we…sleep together?" Jace asked, trepidation in his voice. Vixie looked at him for a long moment, debating on her answer. Should she tell him of the months she'd spent writhing below him? How she screamed his name as he brought her over the edge again and again? Should she tell him of her true feelings? Of how she fell in love with him during their time together?

"No," she said, and Jace visibly relaxed. It was the truth, they technically never did _sleep _together. Even though she knew that wasn't the question Jace asked, Vixie spun the answer to provide a small ruse; things were already tense as it was.

"How did you get him to leave with you?" Maia asked quickly. Vixie looked at her, internally cringing at her question, for she knew that this would anger Clary beyond anything else.

"I posed as Clary," Vixie answered reluctantly, her eyes squeezed tightly together as if to hid herself from Clary's rage.

"You did what?" Clary spat in her direction. Simon tightened his hold on the squirming Clary as she fought to throttle Vixie. Vixie tried her best to ignore the raging Clary and addressed Jace as she explained further.

"Your attraction to her was strong. You saw her dancing with Simon, and it was like a tractor beam. Your vision clouded and it seemed you were overcome by an intense need to be near her. I knew then that what Saint Thomas said about the two of you was accurate. That kind of initial attraction is unworldly. So, I did the only thing I could think of to get you to leave. I made myself look like her so that you would follow me without hesitation. It was easy, and it was actually your mother's idea."

"What?" Clary spat, turning on Jocelyn who looked reluctant and defensive at the same time. "How could you?" Clary asked.

"It was the best, safest way to keep you two apart," Jocelyn answered, but Clary didn't hear her reply for she was muttering incoherently. "More time," she mumbled. "We could've had more time together."

"No, Clary," Vixie answered softly. "You were not meant to meet at that time." Clary shook her head, enraged. She pictured herself at the club, dancing with Simon like she had done countless times. But this time, she imagined a younger Jace watching her. His soft, angular features would have drawn her into his seductive aura. She would've fallen for him just by the site of him. Anger fell over her as she pictured Vixie interfering, Vixie dancing with him, Vixie taken him back to her lair to…

"And you're telling me that you didn't touch him?" Clary asked, incredulous. "That all that time, you never laid a finger on him as you posed as me." Vixie was quiet for many beats, and her hesitancy to answer was all Clary needed.

"You fucking bitch," she screamed as she flung herself at the faerie, ready to rip her head off. Clary leapt at Vixie, claws barred and eyes fierce. She'd known all along that Vixie and Jace shared a past, one that he had little memory of, or so he claimed. She'd expected that they'd had sex, but also knew that if they did, she was the only acting participant. But the thought of that bitch touching Jace, of them being together in any capacity while Vixie took on the image of her infuriated Clary. Fuck her...

Fuck her for trapping him. Fuck her for taking on her appearance so that Jace would follow her. And fuck her for falling for him. Clary knew she had, she could see it in her yellow eyes, the heartache and the pain of rejection. She loved him, that fucking bitch. how dare her!!!

"Bitch...fuck you up...how could you," Clary spat incoherently as she struggled to get free from Simon's grip on her. she was seething, tearing, kicking and thrashing; her only goal: to rip Vixie's miserable head off. Jocelyn stood in front of her irate daughter with both her palms raised in effort to calm her down. But Clary couldn't hear her calming words against the thumping of her heart beat in her chest. Her vision reddened and the furry raged inside her. The blood in her veins boiled as she fought to get free from Simon.

Suddenly, there was a loud popping sound and Clary's body fell limp to the ground, unresponsive. Jace growled a low oath as he bent to Clary's flaccid body.

"What the hell happened?" Luke growled, his tone fierce.

"I-I I don't know," Simon stuttered. "I didn't do anything." He stared wide-eyed at Clary still body.

"I did," Magnus proclaimed from behind them, hip cocked out to the side with a glitter gloved hand resting atop it. His face was flat, emotionless as he prepared for Jace's wrath; he knew Jace wouldn't take his interference lightly.

"You didn't expect me to let her wig out again, did you?" Magnus said calmly, looking at the lint between his fingernails nonchalantly. "If she were to get too pissed off, she'd unleash another Rage Demon here, just like at St. Patrick's. I had to stop her somehow." Jace leapt to his feet and was standing in front of Magnus in an instant. Simon was by his side in the same instant, trying to block him from Magnus while addressing the Warlock.

"What did you do to her?" Simon asked, his voice calm but his posture rigid.

"Oh relax," Magnus scoffed. "I just sent her a little sleeping spell to put her little fiery temper as ease. She'll come out of it any second." There was a small gasp from Clary's prone form as her breathing began to speed. She groaned softly and tried to sit up.

"What happened?" she yawned, her voice full with sleep. She blinked a couple times and stretched her arms above her head.

"Clary," Jace sighed, turning toward her form on the floor. She looked peaceful, like she'd just awoken from the most restful sleep. But as he approached her, recognition donned her eyes, and they narrowed in anger. She sprung to her feet and looked around her, seeing everyone's gaze locked on her, waiting for her to go off again.

"I need to get out of here," Clary said, looking quickly at the door, her only means of escape. She didn't want to be there anymore, she just didn't think she could handle anymore truth. She'd had enough for the day, and wanted solitude. She felt her face redden and tears form in the edges of her eyes. Jace grasped her hand tightly, pulling her towards the door when Clary felt a hand on her shoulder. It held a familiar warmth, one she'd known all her life.

Her mother.

"Clary, please don't leave," Jocelyn hurried out, remorse in her voice. "We have so much to talk about still. You need to know it all so we can figure out how to…"

"Don't," Clary interrupted, swiping her mother's hand from her shoulder quickly. "I'm done."

"But…" Jocelyn began as panic started to cloud her voice. She needed Clary to understand, needed her to stay and listen.

"I'm done!" Clary screamed, the sound reverberating around the room. Silence followed; only the crackling of the fire warming the room could be heard. As Clary looked around the room, she realized that everyone was afraid of her and of what her anger could do. She could see the underlying fear under their concerned faces. She took a deep breath and spoke again.

"I can't hear anymore of your lies, Mom. I can't bear to hear how you betrayed me. It hurts too much to know that you've never loved me."

"Everything I've ever done was for you, Clary," Jocelyn cried. "I've sacrificed so much, gave you as much as I could. How can you say I don't love you? You are my everything!"

"Someone who loved me wouldn't lie to me," Clary spat as huge tears fell down her crimson cheeks. "All you've ever done is lie to me. I can't trust anything that comes out of your mouth!"

"Clarissa," Luke interrupted, standing in front of her mother as he reached out and grasped both of Clary's shaking shoulders comfortingly. "I know that you are upset. Please, just calm down."

"Calm down?" She squawked as she pushed his hands away from trembling body. "Calm down? Fuck you! Both of you!" Clary pointed at Luke with a shaky finger. Her breathing was labored and her face flushed with her furry. She could feel it building once more and she didn't want Magnus to incapacitate her again.

"I need to get the fuck out of here," Clary cried, turning to Jace's waiting arms. "I can't do this anymore," she cried into his shirt. "I can't hear any more bullshit from her. Please?" Jace nodded, glaring at Luke's hulking for, daring him to argue as he led Clary out the door.

* * *

**AN: Thanks to Xox Crazy Daisy Oxo for her beta skills. There are some bonus material on the profile if you're interested. Welcome to all the new readers! (*waves hands hello*)**

**Reviewers**** get another preview in their inbox :D**

**To all those in the States, have a very Happy Thanksgiving!!! I'm getting ready to gain about five pounds and enjoy my Turkey coma :D**


	24. Chapter 23 Magnacious

****

The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.

Chapter 23 - Magnacious

_Revenge._

It consumed her, layered in every breath, fueled every on of her heart beats. It was like her driving force, laced in the air she breathed, the food she ate. It became her, etched in every part of her being. She thrived for it, craved it.

_Revenge._

Katia seethed into a dizzy haze of pure need. She lusted after the sweetness that revenge would offer her, like it was a soothing blanket of comfort and warmth against a storm of ice. The need ran through her veins, as cold as ice water as her heart pounded out of control.

But how?

How was she going to get even with that damned Angel bitch? She didn't want to kill her. No, that would be too easy, too fast, not enough pain. She wanted her to suffer, endlessly.

Katia had never been bested like she had that fateful day at St. Patrick's. Her failure to capture Clarissa Fairchild and turn the wretched girl over to her employer burned her. She was angry at herself for failing, angry at Father Thomas for distracting her (_may he rot in hell_), but she was furious with Clarissa above all else.

She'd show her.

"Katia," Verculis called from the hallway of the dank home they shared. He'd recovered quickly, and was now helping her plot her revenge. "It's time."

Katia smiled, a wicked curve of her lips that showed a row of sharp, white teeth.

_It's time…_

* * *

"This is all wrong," Jocelyn mumbled and she paced back and forth. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this." Her hair was a jumbled mess, as her hands kept running through it wildly. Her eyes were held open wide and her breath came out in random bursts, accompanied by inaudible curses and mutters. She would stop her pacing occasionally, look towards the large double doors her daughter just vacated through, then would begin pacing again, muttering all the while. Luke watched her movements with rapt attention, his face wore a solemn expression.

"Luke," Robert said, coming to his side quietly. "Is she going to be okay?" Luke just shrugged his answer, unsure if it mattered anymore. He knew that Jocelyn had her fair share of secrets, but he'd never known how vast the treasure trove was. And know that he knew everything, he felt hurt and betrayed because though they'd declared their love for each other, Jocelyn hadn't been honest with him. She'd even lied blatantly to his face, he'd just recently discovered. Luke had asked her flat out if there was anything he needed to know in reference to Clary after she told him of the legend of the Angel Children. She'd said no, that she'd told him everything. Maybe she didn't think that having two covert spies on the same hunting team as Clary, meaning Magnus and Vixie, was imperative to Clary's safety. But Luke was incredibly irked that she hadn't told him about the truth of her connection to the pair, and the fact that she did it right to his face stun.

"I need to speak you about something," Robert said softly as he looked around the room to see if anyone else noticed their small conversation. His demeanor successfully pulled Luke out of his inner musings, and Luke looked at the weathered man in quandary.

"I'm concerned about the Council," Robert said, his face forlorn. Luke nodded his head in agreement as he turned his attention back to Jocelyn's rabid pacing.

"It seems that the _Malum Venator_ may have risen again," Luke mused as his eyes fixated on Jocelyn's mumblings. "I heard several older Clave members discussing them as they investigated Marcus's death," he said softly, his eyebrows furrowed. Marcus Darkwinter was the werewolf councilmember who was assassinated earlier in the summer while the group was still in Idris. Robert and Luke had remained there for a while afterwards, although reluctantly. Robert was helping in the investigation while Luke served as temporary councilmember for the Children of Moon. Luke continued, "I don't know if there is any truth to it. Perhaps they were just speculating, or talking about old conspiracy similarities. I don't know. But it seems too much of a coincidence. If there were any Shadowhunters in the Clave of the old beliefs, it would be fitting for this group to resurrect now under the new mixed Council." Robert shook his head in agreement.

"What do we do about it?"

"I'm not sure," Luke mused, his gaze shifting from Jocelyn to Robert. "It's not a group that many would know about; it was supposed to be secret, remember. I don't want us to be seen as some crazy conspiracy theorists. We're going to need the Clave's help if all of Father Thomas said was true."

"What do you mean?" Robert said, halfheartedly. "Are you talking about the thwarts of demons readying a worldwide invasion, or the mysterious villain who is behind said vision and wants to use Clary to aide his cause?" Luke shook his head, exasperated. His features seemed to have aged in that moment. He looked like he was almost fifty.

"I wonder if we know everything now," Robert mumbled as both men looked at the pacing, mumbling redheaded woman before them.

Luke scoffed, "I doubt that."

"I couldn't imagine there being more to hide," Robert retorted, his eyebrows high in contemplation.

"Don't get your hopes up," Luke growled, his eyes narrowed. "That woman continues to surprise me."

"And yet…" Robert trailed off, suggestively.

"And yet…" _I still love her,_ Luke finished in his mind. Robert patted Luke on that back, as if to acknowledge his silent confession, and joined his wife who was whispering a rapid conversation to Isabelle, Alec, and Simon.

"You know, everything she did, she did out of love," a small, watery voice echoed from his side. Luke turned to see the glittered Magnus standing silently beside him, his eyes trained on Jocelyn's hurried movements. Luke gnashed his teeth together as he returned his gaze to Jocelyn as well.

"Well," Luke retorted, a bit of acid in his tone. "It seems you know her better than I do. You should know." Magnus rolled his eyes.

"Oh pa-lease! Whose being the drama queen now?" Luke growled low in his chest as his eyes narrowed in malice.

"Look," Magnus half shouted at the feral werewolf. "She couldn't say anything to you until she knew it would be safe to. It's very hard business, knowing the future. And it's incredible easy to fuck things up if you're not careful. It makes Saint Thomas's death all that more devastating cause now we don't have a handler."

"A handler?" Luke asked, one eyebrow quirked.

"Someone to help us through time," Magnus clarified, throwing his hands in the air dramatically as if to say 'duh'. "Jeez! Don't you read?"

"I don't buy it," Luke grumbled, turning his attention back to Jocelyn. He noticed that she wasn't pacing anymore, but sitting on a nearby bench with her head in her hands, softly muttering to herself. "If she wanted me to trust her, she should have told me everything."

"And risk everything we worked so hard for?" Magnus spat. "Not bloody likely." Luke turned towards the doors to make his exit, frustrated with the whole situation when he felt a small hand on his shoulder.

"Hold it there, big boy," Magnus stopped him. Luke turned to glare down at the Warlock. Magnus just crossed his arms over his feathered-shirted chest and glared right back at Luke. "If you think that after working for over a hundred years to get to this point, we'd let her jeopardize everything by telling you all our dirty secrets just so you don't get your 'wittle feweings' hurt, you are a bigger idiot that you look!" Luke stilled at that, closing his eyes together tightly to calm the growling beast inside him awaiting to be let out of its cage to attack the insulting boy in front of him.

"Just go talk to her," Magnus's voice softened. Luke's eyes flew open at the change in Magnus's tone. He saw the sincerity in the Warlock's face, effectively deflating Luke's feral alter ego. He looked over to Jocelyn, rocking herself rapidly on the bench as she muttered to herself. Her eyes were rimmed in red and tears, and her face looked dejected. Luke's heart clenched at the site of her torment, hoping that he could attempt to comfort her in anyway. But, should he let himself? Should he allow himself to trust her once again, to comfort her when she needed him and trust that she wouldn't betray him?

"She needs you," Magnus said as he placed his gloved hand on Luke's back and pushed him slightly towards Jocelyn's direction. All he needed was that small amount of encouragement, and Luke was approaching Jocelyn, although warily.

Magnus watched the pair as they exchanged hesitant greetings. They kept the conversation light and direct, but eventually, Luke had his arms around the trembling Jocelyn as her sobs began to wrack her body. Luke helped her up from her seat, and Magnus watched as the werewolf lead the solemn Shadowhunter to a more private area, so they could talk.

"It's nice to see someone in this group is forgiving," Vixie said, standing next to Magnus as they both watched Jocelyn and Luke leaving through the large double doors. Magnus nodded in agreement.

"She wasn't as cruel in her deception as I have been," Magnus replied softly. Vixie nodded in agreement.

"If he loves you, then he'd…" Vixie began, but Magnus rose his hand swiftly to cut her off mid-sentence.

"I know he loves me," Magnus retorted shortly. "Love was never our issue. Trust always was and now _that _is broken. I knew this day was coming."

"It doesn't have to be as you have predicted," Vixie said soothingly, placing her hand on Magnus's shoulder comfortingly. Magnus laughed a humorless giggle and took one step away from her, allowing her hand to fall from its perch.

"I am not a fool," Magnus laughed. "I would be lucky to leave this house, alive."

"Do you want me to stay?" Vixie asked, concern in her voice.

"No," Magnus replied quickly. "I will face this on my own." Vixie nodded and looked to the other side of the room. The Lightwoods, all of them save Alec, were staring at her and Magnus, mistrust strong in their demeanor. Alec sat next to his family, his gaze fixed on the carpet below his feet.

"I'll leave you to it then," Vixie said softly. "Maia," she called. Maia came from her seat next to the fireplace, approaching Vixie and Magnus quickly.

"What's up guys?" Maia asked, eager. Vixie smiled a timid smile.

"Will you accompany me to the kitchen? Give them a chance to talk?" Vixie asked, motioning to the Lightwoods standing across the room, and then at Magnus. Maia sized up the situation quickly, then nodded her head quickly as she walked towards the exit.

"Good Luck," Vixie whispered as she followed Maia out the large double doors.

Magus took a deep breath and plastered a fake, nonchalant smile on his face. It didn't reach his eyes. No, those held only fear and apprehension as he walked towards Alec and his family, all of whom were waiting anxiously for him. Magnus couldn't help the internal chuckle as he thought that this would be how a dead-man-walking would feel, taking that last walk of life towards his awaiting doom. They wouldn't hurt him, that much he knew with confidence. Well, maybe most of them wouldn't. He never was certain about Simon nowadays. He was sure that if anything pissed off Isabelle bad enough, the calm-tempered Simon just might snap a twig inside that mysterious brain of his and loose it all together. Magnus had a feeling that all of Simon's mysteries had yet to be revealed, since his transformation was so recent and fresh.

"So," Robert spoke sternly, whipping Magnus out of his internal ramblings. "You come to explain yourself?"

"I hardly explain myself to anyone," Magnus retorted, his fake smile still shining on his face. "Least of all, the Nephilium."

"Yes," Maryse replied. "We all know how much disdain you hold for the Nephilium. Tell me, what do you know of our Grey Book?"

"I know that it is not yours," Magnus chuckled, his eyes sparking at her words. "It never was."

"Then enlighten us," Robert retorted. "Tell us, who does it belong to?"

"It belongs to the Heavens," Magnus answered, his eyes rolling as if the answer was obvious.

"And it was given to us," Maryse argued quickly, gesturing vaguely to indicate the dominating Nephilium population in the room.

"No," Magnus corrected, his mouth twitching as he struggled to hold his posture of nonchalance as his anger boiled under the surface. "It was not given to your kind. It was stolen, along with the Book of White."

"Stolen?" Robert spat, incredulous. "Who stole it from whom? If anything, a Downworlder must have derived a way to take it from the Heaven's Keeper, then we must have rescued it from their clutches and were allowed to keep it as means to fight the evil in this world. Is that it? Did your kind take it and now claim to be the rightful owners of it?"

"It never seizes to amaze me how much your hatred of Downworlders knows no bounds. But I find your imagination, to be lacking some what," Magnus laughed, a hint of rage laced with his mirth. "You Nephilium have always sought yourselves to be the supreme rulers in this realm. It should surprise you then that the Books of Grey and White were not meant for any race, but as a means to communicate with Angels here on Earth." Robert and Maryse exchanged a look of confusion, then Maryse attempted to clarify Magnus's statement.

"You mean the Books contain Heaven's language. Yes, that we've known. It is how we use our Nephilium strength by placing the language of Heaven on our bodies…"

"No," Magnus interrupted. "That is _not _its purpose. The books were used in Babylon, when the Angels walked the Earth. They were used to aide communication between the different species and races that roamed the Earth at the time. It was their main source of communication, Heaven's Language. When the Babylonians built the Tower of Babel, they broke the covenant with Heaven. The Tower was destroyed and the Books were taken. In the bible, it states that all the races spoke different tongues and couldn't communicate with each other; that is how it explains the different language development. The truth is, the Books were the main source of communication. And when they were stolen, that source was gone, leaving the people completely at a loss for words, so to speak."

"But who took them?" Simon asked from his place behind Isabelle. Simon remembered the stories of Babylon that Father Thomas had spoken of while they were in the catacombs under the Cathedral. He'd mentioned that was were Beelzebub had tricked the people into believing they were better than heaven by whispering falsities in their ears. He'd convinced the men to build the Tower, all while he seduced and impregnated the vast population of Babylonian women, giving birth to the race of faeries.

"Who do you think took them?" Magnus retorted.

"Beelzebub…" Isabelle answered on a whisper. Magnus nodded in reply.

"How is that possible?" Maryse asked, disbelief plain in her voice.

"That was his plan all along," Magnus answered. "He whispered lies into the ears of the Babylonians, making them distrust their Heavenly companions. They plotted against them and built the Tower to show their pride and independence from Heaven. During the chaos of the Tower's destruction, Beelzebub took the Books from their hidden alter and disappeared for a millennia. Saint Thomas theorized that he used the Books to somehow formulate a plan against Heaven, using their secret language of runes."

"So that's why Clary is the key…" Simon trailed off, his face showing a shadow of concern before it fell into it peaceful demeanor once more.

"Why Simon," Magnus dotted affectionately. "I think you grew a brain during your little transformation. You're quite cleaver."

"I don't understand. What about Clary?" Isabelle asked, looking towards her parents for clarification, but they looked just as dumbfounded as she did. Alec was silent, still staring at the ground.

"You see," Magnus continued to praise. "Not even the wise Nephilium have figured it out."

"Enlighten us," Robert spat with indignation.

"Clary is the key to fighting Beelzebub's planned war with Heaven because she needs no Book of Grey or White," Magnus clarified in a bored tone. "She has in all in her head, and she can use the runes just as powerfully and astutely as an Angel can. She's the two Books wrapped up in one incredibly hot and sexy package. Isn't that convenient?"

"We have to protect her," Maryse spoke with concern. "If she is the key, then…"

"Wow," Magnus clapped in bravado. " Congratulations! I'm so glad that we seem to be on the same page now. What do you think we've been doing this entire time, even before the thought of Clary's sweaty and steamy conception was even considered? We've been planning, we've been protecting, and we've been preparing for what it to come."

"Then, how did the Books reappear?" Isabelle asked, pulling the attention of the group. Magnus rolled his eyes and began to recite the Books history as if he were preaching a memorized bible verse for regurgitation.

"When Beelzebub obtained all the knowledge he could from the Books, he decided to hide them from the world and Heaven's eye. He gave one to the Greater Demon of Pride, Helga the Great. She was the keeper of the Book of Grey. Beelzebub told her to stay put in her realm, but she was stubborn and prideful. She decided that she would seek out the Earthly realm and invade with the lesser demons in her control. The Nephilium fought her, although with little strength at the time. They defeated her and obtained the Book of Grey."

"Where did the other one go?" Simon asked softly.

"The other was given to the Greater Demon of Lust," Magnus answered, a small smile curving his lips. "She was a gorgeous demon whose beauty surpassed all Earthly creatures. But she was a vengeful cad that lusted over, not only sex, but power as well. She was the Greater Demon that Valentine obtained the blood from; the blood, we now know, he used to poison Clary's brother, Jonathan, aka the mysteriously sexy Sebastian. But Saint Thomas knew what Valentine was up to, and he sent Ragnor Fell to intercept her ascent into our realm. As Valentine seduced her into, not only giving him her blood, but into a raunchy roll-in-the-hay, Fell was able to take the Book of White from her unsuspectingly."

"That's why Fell had the Book of White," Maryse exclaimed. "He was able to make the potion for Jocelyn out of that Book because he rescued it from Lust."

Magnus nodded.

"And now, I have it."

"Why don't we know any of this?" Robert asked, shaking his head in disagreement. "It seems implausible that we wouldn't have known the truth for all these years."

"The history books can be altered," Simon replied, his face still mysteriously serene. "Even in Mundane literature, its been known to happen. The truth is skewed by those in charge."

"By those in charge?" Robert sneered. "It seems you share the same opinion of the Nephilium as your Downworlder friend here, Simon. You don't trust us, do you?"

"Dad, don't start," Isabelle pleaded, but Simon cut her off quickly.

"I haven't been one long enough to formulate any kind of opinion," Simon answered calmly, but as he spoke, there was a strong aura of intensity that enveloped him. And Magnus was not the only one that noticed it. Robert took a step back from him as Simon continued to talk. "I have been witness to both good and evil done by the Clave, but I do trust everyone in this room. I don't think that anyone here had done anything they didn't have to do. And that includes Magnus. I have seen a great many things since I've been thrown into this world, most of which has readjusted my definitions of weird and creepy. But since my transformation into this…being…race….whatever, I've been able to sense things differently. Almost as if I can determine when I'm being lied to or if something isn't genuine. Magnus is being truthful, he didn't hide things from us for 'gits and shiggles'. He honestly believed what he was doing was for the greater good, they all did. And Saint Thomas, he was authentic: a real prophet."

"You're kinda scary," Magnus commented softly. The corner of Simon's mouth twitched in amusement.

"I don't understand," Alec said then, his voice low and uneasy. The sound of it sent a pang in Magnus's stomach that caused a large amount of bile to churn uncomfortably. "Why would you lie? To me?"

"I never lied to you about how I feel, Alec," Magnus spoke quickly, his voice light and airy, as if he hadn't a care in the world. But internally, Magnus was dying an inch at a time as he watch the torment on Alec's face. He noticed that the rest of their audience kindly slipped from the room, giving them a moment of privacy as Alec shook his head, continuing his tirade.

"How can I believe that?" Alec asked, raising his head to meet Magnus's face fully. Magnus visibly cringed when he saw the pain in Alec's eyes.

"It's easy," Magnus said softly, coming around to sit next to Alec on the bench by the fireplace. "You either believe me, or you don't."

"It's not that simple," Alec spoke quickly, attempting to keep his voice stern and lacking any emotion. He failed miserably.

"It is," Magnus argued. "Just as it is with Luke and Jocelyn. She had to keep things from the people she loved for their own good, not because she didn't want to tell them or she didn't trust them to keep her secrets. She did it because if she changed from her directed path, skewed from it in any way, it could alter the outcome completely."

"You're telling me that if you told me who you were and what you were doing, it would change where we are this minute? Please." Alec rolled his eyes and stood quickly from the bench, giving Magnus his back as he walked across the room.

"Think about it," Magnus answered. "If I would have told you when I first met you that I'd been watching and protecting your pseudo-brother since birth, what would you have said?"

"You could have told me later," Alec retorted, crossing his arms over his chest is defiance. "When you knew me better, you could have told me the truth."

"No," Magnus answered, standing from his seat and crossing to Alec. "I couldn't have. You needed to hear things in a certain order, for it to all make sense as it does now."

Alec scoffed, "Are you going to tell me that Father Thomas told you that too? 'Don't tell Alec anything, Magnacious because I foresee him screwing things to hell in a hand basket if you do.' Bullshit!"

"Listen, you insufferable ass," Magnus retorted, slamming his foot upon the ground like a two year old, effectively sending a shower of glitter across the floor like powdered sugar. "Father Thomas said no such thing! I know you; whether you'd like to believe me or not, I know that you wouldn't have taken to the truth about my past unless you knew what you know now."

"That's not true," Alec argued, whirling around to meet Magnus head on. "I loved you! I would have believed anything you told me! But to know that you were lying to me, that you were hiding so much, that you knew what Jace was and how he was…"

"Is that what this is about?" Magnus interrupted, taking a step back from Alec. "About your pathetic crush on your brother? Is that why your angry with me, cause I knew all along that he was never destined to love you, but only Clary?" Magnus laughed when Alec didn't answer right away, only looked back at him dumbfounded.

"Fuck you," Alec spat.

"Fuck me?" Magnus laughed. "Fuck me? Please, you've already done that, haven't you. But that's all it was, a fuck. That's it. You've never loved me, have you? It's always been him, your brother." Magnus laughed mirthlessly as small tears leaked from the corner of his eyes. "Who was lying to whom, huh Alec?"

"Like you're any better," Alec mocked back at him, rage and pain in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Magnus asked, confusion laced his tone.

"Who is Katia to you, Magnus?"

"She is no one to me," Magnus answered quickly, but he looked away from Alec, not fully meeting his gaze.

"I don't buy it," Alec retorted, shaking his head vigorously.

"That's your problem, sweets," Magnus chuckled, but again, his gaze did not meet Alec's.

"So, you don't mind if I call you 'pet'," Alec asked hotly, crossing his arms over his muscled chest. "Is that a name all ex-lovers get to call you, or was she special?"

"She was nothing to me but a liability," Magnus answered sharply, a hue of blue sparking from his fingertips.

"So you've said before," Alec retorted. "Why was she your liability, Alec?"

"Why does it matter to you?" Magnus countered, finally looking at Alec's stoic posture. There was silence for several beats as they both sized each other up, trying to see each other's intentions under the bitterness and pain.

"Because…" Alec trailed off.

"Because?" Magnus asked again.

"Look," Alec growled as he took several steps toward Magnus. The Warlock's posture stumbled slightly in surprise. "If you want me to trust you, then you have to be honest with me completely now. I can't give you my heart blindly thinking that you've done the same, to then learn that it was all based on duty and obligation."

"You were never my obligation or duty, Alec," Magnus clarified. "Only Clary was. You were, are my privilege…and my pleasure." The two men looked at each other, searching for truth in each other's eyes.

"Who was she to you?" Alec asked again. Magnus sighed and walked to a nearby chair to take a seat. He gregariously crossed one leg over the other and templed his fingers in front of his face in a contemplative gesture. It took him several minutes to organize his thoughts, but it did not escape his attention that Alec awaited his answer patiently and courteously, which made Magnus feel secure to reveal his final hidden secrets.

"She was my lover, at one point," Magnus conceded, his tone melancholy as he spoke. "She fought with us during the fight against the _Malum Venator_. Damn good fighter too."

"She didn't seem like the type to fight for good," Alec mused. Magnus chuckled at that.

"No," he laughed. "She wasn't. You misunderstand. She fought with us because she hated the Nephilium. It wasn't because she thought she was helping Downworlders or for any political reasoning. She just saw it as an excuse to legitimately kill Shadowhunters."

"And you loved her?" Alec asked flatly.

"Hardly," Magnus chuckled. "She was too much of a cold bitch to love," Magnus sighed. "We did have some good times together," he reminisced.

"So it seemed," Alec observed, and Magnus looked at him, questioning that statement with his eyes.

"It's just some of the things she said," Alec clarified. "It seemed she knew you more than just a warrior." Magnus nodded in agreement.

"She was my last lady lover, as it were," Magnus confirmed, and Alec nodded in comprehension. "She is actually the one who turned me to the 'dark side'," Magnus chuckled. "You see, she was very….kinky. She liked to explore different…options. So, one night full of experimentation and, POOF, Magnus was a born-again homosexual. It was miraculous!" Alec laughed softly at Magnus's flamboyance.

"Don't worry," Magnus began again, his tone turning somber. "She never meant anything more to me than a quick lay."

"What about the other one?" Alec questioned.

"Other one?" Magnus asked, feigning innocence.

"The other Warlock," Alec clarified. "He seemed to know you too."

"Oh Verc?" Magnus asked. Alec shrugged his shoulders, not knowing who 'Verc' was, but conceded he was speaking of the other Warlock who fought Magnus in the Cathedral.

"He was an old friend," Magnus replied, batting his hand at Alec as if it was no big deal. But a twinge of guilt fell over Magnus as he realized that he wasn't being completely honest with Alec. And he knew that if he were to get caught in another lie, Alec wouldn't give him a second chance at redemption. So, with a heavy heart, Magnus swallowed the lump in his throat, and clarified his previous relationship.

"He was my first," Magnus said softly.

"Excuse me?" Alec asked, not quite sure what Magnus said. Magnus cleared his throat and repeated himself a little louder.

"Your first?" Alec asked, his eyebrows pulling together. Magnus gestured with his hands suggestively, but Alec wasn't catching his meaning.

"Oh for the love of hell," Magnus threw up his arms dramatically. "He was my first little boy toy, get it?"

"Oh," Alec gasped. "Ohhhhhh. I'm…sorry?" Alec said, the end sounding like a question rather than a statement.

"Me too," Magnus grumbled under his breath, but Alec caught the change in his posture and questioned him on it.

"What happened?"

"Same thing that always seems to happen," Magnus said breezily. "I got screwed and stabbed in the back, both literally and figuratively…in that order too."

"What?" Alec asked, shock in his tone. "You got stabbed?"

"And screwed," Magnus answered.

"I'm confused…" Alec began, but Magnus cut him off quickly.

"They tried to set us up," he said angrily, the memory of it still aggravated him. "Once the _Malum Venator_ disappeared, Katia believed that we should've attacked the Clave full force. She thought the world was better without their rule, and thought we should've capitalized on our opportunity to overthrow them. What we didn't know at the time, was that Katia and Verculis were dabbling in some rather shady under projects and they didn't want the Clave's involvement to jeopardize their prophets. Father Thomas tried to get her to see reason, but she laughed in his face."

"So, how were you stabbed," Alec asked.

"Katia decided she didn't like Father Thomas's ideals and tried to sell him back to the Clave," Magnus answered, gesturing as he explained. "She told the Clave where he was, for a very hefty price, and the Clave sent an assassin squad to kill him."

"Why would they do that?" Alec asked, confused. "I though they shunned him as a fraud and all that. Why would they want him dead?"

"Hmmm," Magnus pondered, his finger coming towards his chin to stroke his invisible beard. "Why indeed?"

"You don't know?" Alec asked. Magnus shook his head in reply. "Then why?" Alec asked again. Magnus shrugged his shoulders and gripped his propped knee with his hands.

"I don't know, Kitten. But I do know that Father Thomas knew the reason, but he's no talking anymore. Anyhoo, the assassins came, we fought him, Katia stabbed me in the back in attempt to see her prophets fulfilled…end of story."

"Huh," Alec grunted.

"Yep," Magnus replied, emphasizing the 'p' dramatically.

"And you hadn't seen her since?" Alec asked. "Or him?"

"Not till ol' St. Patrick's," Magnus answered.

"Hmm," Alec mumbled, then became silent for several minutes, contemplating all the information he'd been told over the last week or so.

"Wow," Alec sighed, exasperated.

"It's a whole lot of bullshit, right?" Magnus chuckled. Alec nodded in reply. They sat quiet for a while, both lost in their inner musings, trying to find answers and clarification for their own internal quandaries. After some time, Alec began to furrow his brow, remembering something that Magnus had said.

"It was never about him," Alec spoke softly. Magnus raised his eyebrows in question. "Jace, I mean. It was never about him. I thought I loved him, but it's different…then how I feel for you, I mean." Magnus closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath through his widened nostrils.

"Alec," he began, not opening his eyes in fear of what he'd see if he did. "If you cant love me the way I need to be, then…" But he was interrupted by a soft pair of lips on his own. His eyes popped open in surprise to find Alec perched on his lap, both hands thrown around his neck.

"I love you, Magnus," Alec said sweetly. "Just don't lie to me, please. I cant take anymore of it." Magnus nodded, his eagerness jostling Alec a tad bit, making Magnus wince slightly.

"Your ass is really bony," Magnus complained, causing Alec to raise off of him quickly. Magnus rubbed his thigh quickly where Alec's ishium protruded into it with a small grimace on his face. Alec whispered his apologies as he rubbed Magnus's lower back in comfort. The two left the library, heading to Alec's bedroom to finish their conversation behind closed doors.

* * *

**AN: One of my readers requested that I post what Clary's outfit looked like when she was at the Pandemonium (Chapt 19), so I added it to my profile. Enjoy!!! I also put a poll up cause I'm curious to see who you all think the traitor is. **

**Thanks to my Crazy Daisy for reviewing this chapter for me. Kudos on undertaking such a huge project this late in the game (round of applause!)**

**Reviewers get a preview of the next chapter!!! :D**


	25. Chapter 24 Discovering Pleasure

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2009 Emily Bowden. All rights reserved worldwide.**

* * *

Chapter 24 - Rune Experimentation

"I cant believe this," Clary screamed as she paced back and forth across her bedroom floor. All her items from atop her nightstand, dresser, and vanity were lying in broken pieces upon the floor. Her room looked like a bomb had exploded in it, and still, her anger had not abated.

Jace watched her quietly from her bed, a look of concern and contemplation on his face. He had remained silent for now, allowing Clary the time she needed to process what had just happened. Only when she began to actually pull her hair out in frustration, and punch the wall mercilessly until her knuckles bled, did he rise from the bed and slowly approach her.

"Clary," he began softly.

"Don't," was her harsh reply. "I cant, Jace. Not right now." She returned to pacing avidly while he watched her rapid movements. "I don't want to yell at you or take this out on you in any way. I just…need…a minute." She continued to pace the room, occasionally growling and cursing in frustration and anger.

How could things be this fucked up? Jace wasn't sure where to begin. So much had been said in that damned library, his head was still reeling. He honestly didn't know who to trust. And he couldn't imagine how hard all of this had to be for Clary.

Her mother…_that lying bitch_…had kept so many secrets from her daughter that it would be a miracle if he'd ever get the two of them to be civil to one another again. Not on Jocelyn's part; Jace knew that she'd work tirelessly to mend her relationship with her daughter. No, he knew that the most resistant one of the pair would be his Clary. She was a spitfire, stubborn as could be. And right now, rightfully so, she was pissed.

But did he really want them making up? The selfish part of him was happy that he would be her main source of support right now. It made him oddly comforted to know that she would turn to him first when something was bothering her or when she'd had a bad day. Simon was out of the running now; he was too busy boning Isabelle to pay Clary much attention any more. They were best friends still, sure. But his priority wasn't to make sure Clary had a BFF anymore. He was otherwise engaged and Jace couldn't be happier about it, for selfish reasons, of course. Clary seemed to be pissed at Luke right now as well. He'd been her father-figure her whole life; he had helped Jocelyn raise Clary from the sidelines, sure, but that never diminished how Clary felt about her 'father'. She loved him and trusted his opinion above all other males. Until recently, that is. Again, Jace inwardly smiled at that.

He was being selfish, he knew it. But it was hard for him to care at the moment. Because of recent revelations and developments, Jace could proudly call himself Clary's only support, practically her only family.

_Only family…_

The thought pulled him up short as guilt washed over him, realizing what Clary might really be going through. It was not long ago that the proverbial rug was pulled out from underneath Jace himself; he'd found out that the 'family' he thought he had was all based on lies. His real parents were dead, had been for a very long time. He could remember the bitterness he'd felt about that truth and the familiar taste of bile started to coat the back of his throat.

How could he be so selfish? Wanting Clary to feel abandoned so he could step in and sweep her off her feet. How could he be such a loathsome creature?

Ever since that day with Father Thomas, when it had been revealed that Jace was ordained by Heaven to be Clary's guardian, he had a strange, overpowering urge to protect her. He felt a draw to her, like if he wasn't touching her in some way, he wouldn't be whole. His feelings for Clary in the past had always been strong, almost other worldly. But this was different, more binding. Father Thomas had said that all Jace needed was a catalyst for his warrior powers to become more prominent. Was their love, their undying dedication and devotion to each other the catalyst? Or was the trigger just the fact that Father Thomas had stated it as so? Either way, the urge to cling to, protect, and provide for Clary was indiscernible. More innate to him than breathing.

So much so, that he was selfish and desperate enough to wish her family into a less prominent role in her life, despite how much agony that would cause her. _I am a selfish bastard. I don't deserve her_, he thought despairingly.

He watched his love with sorrowful eyes as she destroyed all the breakable possessions in her room, panting and growling all the while in her rage.

"Clary," he tried again.

"What, Jace?" she spat, wheeling around to stare daggers at him for interrupting her temper tantrum. Was it his imagination or was that red he saw rim her irises? As fast as he saw the color, it seemed to disappear. _Must have been the firelight_, he thought.

"Sweetheart," Jace whispered, holding his hand out to Clary as a sort of peace offering. He wanted her to feel safe with him. He wanted her to feel calm, at peace even if it was just for a minute. He could give her that security, offer her his affection and love and wrap it around her like a warm blanket. But Clary seemed lost in a rage induced trance. Her angry eyes shifted from Jace's face, to his hand. She just stood there, staring at it like she didn't know what it was or what she was supposed to do with it.

"Come here," Jace encouraged. Clary's gaze fell on his once again, and there was a strange emptiness behind it, like she wasn't seeing him clearly. Like all she could only focus on the anger she felt at her predicament. Jace squeezed her hand, making Clary jump slightly at the pressure. As Jace watched her, he could see the anger, rage, and hate melt from behind her eyes. Pain, regret, and despair blanketed her face as tears laced the edges of her lids. Jace's heart melted as he watched her change from a ravenous tigress, to a scared and wounded kitten in seconds.

"Oh, Jace," Clary cried, coming into the warmth of his chest as he wrapped his protective arms over her small, shaking frame. "I fucking hate this," she cried into his shirt, staining the fabric with her tears. Jace rubbed his large hands over her back in small, comforting circles, trying to get her to relax.

"I know, sweetheart," he crooned. "It's all kinds of fucked up. But we will handle this together."

"How?" she cried, pulling her face up from his chest and looking deep into his golden eyes. Jace sighed at the pain in her face and began wiping the tear streaks from under her lashes. "I feel so betrayed. Like everything, my whole life has been a lie. One big, fat, fucked up joke! I don't know how I'm going to move on from this. I don't even know where to begin!"

"There is nothing we cant over come together, Clary," he said softly, tracing her shapely bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "I won't leave you. I will be here to protect you, now and always."

"But there is so much," Clary sobbed. "So many lies, so many manipulations, I can't even keep up!" The anger was returning to her voice, squashing the tears and sobs into ragged breaths of fury.

"Clary, calm down," Jace spoke softly, but sternly. Clary huffed and turned away from him.

"I can't!" she screamed, whipping around to face him. "Every time I think of it, think of my mother, I get so damn pissed off!" Jace thought he saw that flash of red in her eyes again, and began to approach her quickly. If he didn't calm her down, he was afraid of what the repercussion would be. Images of the Cathedral rumbling and falling apart as Clary's fury overtook her began flashing in Jace's head, almost like visions. Was that another message from Heaven? Get Clary to calm down, or else?

"Clary, come here," Jace said flatly, leading her to the edge of the bed and sitting her down. He got on his knees behind her, causing the bed to shift slightly by his weight. He knelt behind her and began rubbing her shoulders, hoping that he could relieve some tension from her through his ministrations. He could hear Clary huffing now and then, but the muscles in her neck remained tense and rigid as before. The pulse in her neck beat rapidly and her breath came out in rasps. Her hands were balled up in fists and she'd occasionally slam one down on her thigh, probably causing the skin to bruise underneath. Jace became frustrated quickly and tried to rack his brain for another way to calm her down. Talking didn't work, she was too upset to communicate. And she was too tense for a relaxing massage. What else then?

Jace's hands froze in the middle of rubbing her tense shoulders as an idea formed in his head. There were two ways Clary would react to his plan. One, she'd finally relax and be able to enjoy herself, or two, she'd snap completely, probably take his head off while she was at it.

_What a way to die though_, Jace thought.

His hands began to massage her back again in slow, smooth circles. Clary remained rigid, but her breathing evened out as Jace worked her muscles.

"I want to show you how much I love you, Clary. That you can trust me, completely," Jace said softly, his voice low and thick. Clary huffed impatiently in response. Jace ignored her attitude and continued to massage her, moving his hands from her neck and shoulders, down to her mid and lower back. Clary sighed, her body finally starting to relent to Jace's work.

Jace bent his face down to Clary's ear, close enough that his hot breath caressed her skin as he spoke.

"I love you, Clary," he whispered into her ear. "I want you more than I could ever explain in words." Clary started to get up from the bed, muttering protests about bad timing and distaste. But Jace grabbed a hold of her wrist and spun her quickly around so that she was facing him. She tried to pry herself free, but Jace's hold only tightened. Her expression was surprised, and somewhat annoyed that Jace would use his superior strength to manipulate her.

"Jace," Clary growled, her anger becoming evident once more. "I don't have time or energy for this shit right now. I have too much-" she argued, but Jace quickly cut her off by forcefully pulling her body to his and crashing his lips onto hers. She was just the right height, small enough that he barely had to lift his chin to kiss her lips as she stood before him, while he sat on the bed below.

He could feel how tense she was underneath him, her lips closed and stiff. He needed her to relax, to calm down, and to feel how much he loved her. He needed her to know that no matter what they faced in life, he loved her to his very core.

He moved his lips on hers, trying with his actions to get her to soften. The tip of his tongue darted out to caress her bottom lip, and he felt her melt into his arms. She began to move with him now, parting her mouth slightly to invite him in. The kiss deepened, and within seconds, the pair was breathing heavily as their hands explored each others clothed bodies.

Clary weaved her fingers through Jace's golden locks, while his fingers explored the smooth skin of her waist. His hands grazed under her black shirt, feeling the cords of the muscles in her abdomen, the flesh pimpling under his touch. Moving upward, his hands explored, played, and teased her skin, tracing along the edge of her bra as she combed through the hair at the back of his neck. In a fast movement, Jace grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it off her head, barely having to pause from their heated kiss. His kisses came quicker now, deeper, as he moved down the smooth skin of her neck. He paused at her collar bone, sucking slightly and tracing the curves with his tongue. Clary moaned as Jace's arms wrapped around her body, pulling her chest closer to his. The feeling of her soft skin on his spiraled their desire, and for the time being, all their angst was forgotten.

Jace's skilled hands ran along the muscled of Clary's back, dipping between the curve of her spine and flirting with the clasp of her black bra. Jace quickly made short work of it, releasing her breasts as the straps fell from her shoulders gracefully. He never paused from his movements, just continued tracing his lips across her cheek, down her chin, along her neck, until he reached her newly revealed peaks.

Clary arched herself into him, presenting her bosom like a feast, and Jace devoured himself willingly, desperately. She let out a soft moan as his tongue encased on of her pink tips, the sensation of his touch casting every other thought away like the ocean waves cleaning a beach shore of debris; she was finally calm.

When Clary had discovered earlier that morning all of the secrets her mother had kept from her, she initially didn't know what to think. She felt betrayed, angry, hurt, but most of all…confused. How could she possibly take all that she knew in her life, about her mother, about Luke, about her relationship with Jace, and not have it completely skewed by deception and lies. Could she trust anything anymore? It was evident to her that she could no longer trust her mother, perhaps even Luke for that matter. But the biggest worry, the thing that caused her much more dread than anything else, was the fear that she couldn't trust her feelings for Jace.

Can a relationship that was preordained by Heaven really be genuine? Could she truly trust her feelings for him, no matter how intense they were? Were they actually hers to begin with, or were they tainted by some voodoo type magic or spell? These were the questions that flashed through her mind as she'd paced her room earlier. These were the thoughts that had sent her into a tailspin of fury and panic, because she couldn't bare to know the answers.

Jace was her world, her best friend and her lover; she couldn't imagine her life without him as a prominent and permanent fixture. From the moment she'd seen him, in that small storage room at the back of the Pandemonium, she'd been oddly drawn to him. At first, it was mostly his good looks and confident exterior that had attracted her. But as she learned more about him, her feelings for him grew, developed into what they were now: all-consuming, desperate, infinite love.

Now, with every discovery compounding against her, she started to doubt if the feelings she had for him were really hers, and not influenced in any way. Did she love Jace as much as she thought she did? Did he love her? The overwhelming mixture of emotions sent her into a fit of rage, and her worldly possessions had taken the brunt of it.

In the back of her mind, she'd heard Jace's attempts to calm her earlier, as she'd ravaged her room around her. She hadn't care. Usually, just the sound of his voice alone was able to bring her calm and peace; but in that moment, she had been too consumed by the rage inside her to even acknowledge anything but the hate. It was his touch, the movement of his lips on hers, that had tamed her. Like a cube of ice held over a lit flame, the rage had melted away, leaving only euphoric heat and burning passion.

She could feel every touch Jace made as her mind concentrating on the electric tingling caused by his skin on hers. Her breathing became labored as his fingertips grazed down her back. His large, strong arms wrapped around her as he held her softly, lovingly. His mouth never relented on her supple flesh, bringing her insurmountable pleasure as she waited in taut anticipation for him to finally be in her, once again.

His hands slide down her sides, his fingers wrapping around her body at the curve of her waist, resting just above her hips. In a flash quicker than Clary could anticipate, Jace had twisted himself and placed her gently upon the bed, his mouth never leaving her skin.

Clary arched into him, the crown of her skull digging into the comforter below as she threw her head back in pleasure. She was attempting to get her body closer to his skilled tongue and lips as best she could, but it never seemed close enough, deep enough. Only him being completely sheathed inside her had ever squelched that aching need she had for him. It was always there, a invariable in her life; an overwhelming draw to Jace had always been a constant companion. It was painful when he wasn't touching her, excruciating when he was away from her, but when he was caressing her like this, with his playful tongue, lips, and fingertips, it was a intense need, almost unbearable. Not because it was stark or sharp or overbearing, but because it was passionate, an anticipatory ache versus a harsh necessity.

When they were touching like this, waiting to be joined as one, it felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing she was about to fall over into a cold, rabid sea. But the fall did not offer death at the end. No, the cold waters promised nothing but mind numbing pleasure and bliss, encompassing her entire body, right down to her very soul. She couldn't wait to fall again, and she silently begged him with her body for him to enter her, to take her, to throw her off that cliff once more.

Jace played with the edge of her jeans, trailing the pads of his fingers along the hem and under just slightly. Clary bucked and writhed, moaning all the while. She parted her legs, inviting his body in closer. Pushing her hips out to meet him, she began to move and rotate them against his stomach, trying to get friction where she desperately needed it. She could feel his mouth forming a small smile of satisfaction and smugness upon her skin, but she didn't care. He could be smug; he deserved it. Jace was amazing, and could make her body sing.

Slowly, Jace undid the button of her jeans, pulled the zipper down one tooth at a time, and began to tug the fabric from her body. His mouth never left her skin, only following after the trail his fingertips left. He removed her pants, pulling her slippers along with them.

"Damn, Clary," he moaned. "What are you wearing?" Underneath Clary's jeans was a barely-there, black laced thong. Typically, Clary didn't wear such suggestive undergarments; that was more Isabelle's forte.

"Hmmm," she replied, her eyes hooded with a sly smile on her face. "You like?"

"Fuck..." was all he could manage to say as his mouth explored the edges of the sheer fabric. He place both of his palms, fingers spread wide, on top of her shapely, smooth thighs. His fingers curled upon her flesh, almost as if the sight of her lying there completely nude, save for the small piece of black lace, caused him insufferable amounts of anguish; almost as if he needed to ravage her as if his life depended on it. He was like a starving animal, being kept from sustenance; he needed to feed. Watching him gaze at her like that, seeing him struggle with control, caused a wave of heat to flash low in her stomach. The anticipation for all the pleasure he could make her feel doubled in intensity.

Without warning, Jace pulled at he sheer lace covering her core, ripping it from her body. Clary screamed as Jace's mouth devoured her pussy, giving one long, languid swipe along her slit. He paused at the top, the flat of his tongue running over her clit with just enough pressure. Clary began to writhe in pleasure, her eyes clamped tightly shut against the onslaught of the incredible sensations he was bringing her. Her toes curled and her muscles tightened as he continued to send her into oblivion.

He pushed two fingers into her, sheathing them as deep as he could. He curved his fingers upward slightly, giving just enough pressure at her g-spot. She cried out in bliss. He continued to pump them in and out of her as his lips wrapped around her clit and gently sucked at the sensitive nub.

"Oh g…ahn..Jace," she moaned and stammered at his work, unable to pronunciate or articulate clearly against the pure pleasure he was bringing her. Bright flashes of light started to appear behind her eye lids. She began to glimpse the formations of runes in her vision, but they were unclear and imprecise. But as his movements deepened, her vision cleared in-time, almost as if the two were harmonized. Jace curled his fingers upward, pausing at the deepest point they could go as his tongue drew lazy circles on her clit. Clary bucked into his face as her body began to shudder with her orgasm. She climaxed hard, her muscles shaking as her insides clamped down on Jace's fingers. At the height of her release, she saw one vivid rune flash into her mind. It was defined, precise, and the appearance of it sent her body into another overpowering orgasm.

Jace worked her down, slowly keeping a small amount of pressure on her sensitive flesh so that she could ride her orgasm to its finish. She was panting and gasping for air, her body still recovering from the excursion.

"Mmmm," Jace hummed against Clary's heated skin. He was kissing his way up her stomach, his mouth never having left her at any moment. "I can't get enough of you, Clary. I just want to devour you again and again."

"Good," Clary sighed, her breath evening out as she began to recover. She had a sly smile on her face. "Cause I have a feeling things are going to get a lot more interesting. Give me your arm, I want to try something." With that, Clary grabbed her steele off her nightstand, reading herself to test out her new found rune.

* * *

**I am offering my readers a challenge. This chapter was really important, cause it was my original idea from the beginning. Call me a perv, or whatever, but I had this concept while I was reading the book. LOL! So, here's the deal. There are way over a 100 people who have favorited this story. If each of you leave me a review, the next chapter will pick up where this one left off. **

**Deal?**

**As always, reviewers get a preview for the next chapter. And this one will be super good…**


	26. Chapter 25 The Catalyst

**The Mortal Instrument character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization; 2009/2010 Emily Bowden. **

**Lemon Warning: If you are not old enough, this isn't the chapter for you! Thanks for reading...**

* * *

Chapter 25 – The Catalyst

_The Catalyst..._

That phrase had been on Jace's mind ever since that afternoon spent with Father Thomas, deep within the catacombs of St. Patrick's Cathedral. The old priest had mentioned a catalyst was needed to spark the intrinsic desire to protect Clary, for Jace to become her warrior, the _ultimate_ warrior. But what had been the catalyst?

At first, he was uncertain. Perhaps it was that he needed to see Clary in mortal danger, like she had been in the Cathedral, to spark that innate force. But they had fought plenty of demons in the past and the overwhelming need he had to protect her never made its self known. Of course, he had always been protective of Clary, even in the beginning. But it was nothing compared to what he felt now. No, not even similar.

So what was the catalyst? What had needed to happen in order for his preordained mission to be fulfilled?

_The ring..._he thought. Could that have been it? Is that why the Angel had given it to him, knowing that when Jace placed it on Clary's finger, it would start the connection, the burning need he felt to defend her? A sharp memory came flooding into his mind. Father Thomas had said something about the ring before he had died...

"_The gift from the Angel, it's more important than you know, Jace. She needs to know. Tell her before it's too late."_

What did that mean? The ring was more significant than just a symbol of their undying love for each other? Did it, perhaps, mean something more than just that? Or maybe it was supposed to serve as some sort of beacon to Heaven, showing them that she was a faithful servant to their Will. After all, it was given to him by the Angel. Perhaps when he placed it on Clary's finger, as the Angel had requested, the motion signified to Heaven that they had chosen to follow the preordained path set for them; mortals had free will and a chance to say 'no' to Heaven's Design, and maybe their acceptance of their destiny was wrapped up into that small golden circle. The catalyst?

It didn't make sense to Jace, no matter which way he looked at it. And with all the thoughts clouding his mind, all the realizations and fears that had been brought to light, he didn't feel the answers mattered as much. The only thing he was certain about, was that he needed to protect Clary from whatever danger threatened her. He needed to be certain that she was safe and guarded at all times. It was his job to accomplish, and he would die before he saw her hurt.

He stood in front of the large mirror inside his bathroom, the smooth glass covered by a thin layer of mist. Securing the towel around his waste, he reached for the mirror, wiping away a large streak with his hand so that he could see his reflection more clearly.

There were dark circles underneath his eyes, and lines that creased in between his brows. Worry lines, he knew. There had been too much to fret over lately, all encompassing his one true love, Clary.

The gentle splashing of the shower water behind him offered a calming cadence for reflection. He thought of what it would be like to be normal for once. Not a Shadowhunter, just an everyday Mundane. Visions of an alternate life with Clary crept into his mind. He saw children, laughter, and peace for eternity. But that was not reality for a Nephilium, especially ones with seemingly permanent targets tattooed on their heads. He thought of his future now, and all he could see was the immediate danger that threatened them. He couldn't see past it, almost like there was nothing there to see. No future past the turmoil, and that thought scared him to the core.

Jace ran a unsteady hand through his golden locks, the small drops of the shower water gathering along his fingertips. He took in a deep breath in order to calm his overworked mind; it didn't help, he was too engaged in his downward spiral. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to find a peaceful balance inside his mind, a place where nothing existed but love and harmony. He breathed through his nose, and out through his mouth. Only the sounds of the trickling water, the murmur of the exhaust fan, and the gentle humming of Clary's voice beneath the heated spray resounded around the room.

Clary; her sweet voice filled Jace's ears, the sound sending a gentle tranquility over him like an ocean spray kissing heated skin.

Jace smiled, his eyes still firmly shut. Thoughts of the nights before came spilling into his mind.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clary had reached for her stele from her nightstand among Jace's confused expression. He had just devoured himself on her, rocked her body with an intense orgasm...and she wanted to experiment with her stele?

Once Clary had fisted her golden wand, she turned to see the confusion and mild hurt on Jace's face. She laughed.

Jace grunted.

"What the hell, Clary?" Jace growled, grabbing one of her ankles and pulling her body closer to him. Positioning himself between her legs, he growled at her playfully; he was hot and ready for her, and his confusion was turning quickly into impatience.

Clary giggled, wagging her hips a little as Jace's heavy gaze traveled along her body. He groaned.

"Clary," he moaned as his lips consumed her skin once more, leaving a slick trail down her neck and along her collar bone. "I need you, baby."

"Mmmm," she moaned, pushing back on Jace's chest slightly. He paused in his movements, giving her a panty soaking smile with heavy lidded eyes. She internally melted as she felt her lower abdomen heat with unbridled desire. "I want to try something, you game?" she asked, moving the stele back and forth in her little hand. Jace quirked an eyebrow, looking at her questioningly.

"Sweetheart, I'm all for trying new things. But if you think I'm sticking that thing anywhere, you are crazy. They have toys made for that sort of thing, you know?" Clary rolled her eyes.

"That's not what I meant, Jace." Clary pushed herself up on her elbows slightly as she explained. "I saw a rune in my mind just now, and I want to try it out." Jace's face was classic, the epitome of confusion and angst. He was internally battling with himself, fighting off the need to plunge himself into her warm heat, despite her momentary need to experiment, consequences be damned. Clary could read his indecision warring in his mind, and grabbed his wrist quickly.

"Trust me, baby," she crooned softly. "If this thing does what I think it will, we won't be getting out of this bed anytime soon."

Jace sat back on his haunches, his erection standing out proud and thick. Clary eyed it for a quick second, the saliva pooling in her mouth as she gazed, heated.

"Here," Jace said, effectively pulling Clary's attention from his enlarged member. She looked up at him and saw a sly smirk on his face. She smiled, embarrassed at being caught.

She took his arm firmly, and closed her eyes in concentration. The image of the rune she saw came to her quickly, and she began to trace the marking on her mate. The familiar scent of burning skin filled her nostrils, and she heard the smallest gasp come from Jace's lips.

Clary quickly looked up at Jace, taking in the pained look on his face. The fear of hurting him came crashing into her body. Images of a distraught and crouching Simon filled her vision; her best friend had suffered an unknown fate due to her meddling. What was she thinking using an unknown rune on Jace, her only love? She thought it would be like the Love rune, the one that had saved Jace from death and broke the spell cast by Katia in the Cathedral. She didn't think it would hurt him, not her Jace. She thought the mysterious rune had meant Pleasure, not pain. Only pleasure...

Clary was frantic, scrambling onto her knees in front of Jace, assessing his still posture as the rune took it's unknown effect.

"Jace? Baby?" Clary cried as tears pricked her eyes. She place her hand gently on Jace's shoulder, trying to get him to shift from his frozen state.

The ecstatic moan from Jace's mouth sent an electric shock through her rapid heart, pulling her up short. She stared at him, watching him intently as his face morphed from one of discomfort...to one of complete bliss. The realization sobered her quickly, causing a molten ache to jolt about her body and landing squarely deep into her heated core, making her body swell with anticipation.

"Mmmm," he moaned. "Do that again." Clary was confused, staring blankly at Jace's euphoric face. What had she done to make him react like that? All she remembered doing was placing her hand on his shoulder, the same hand that still rested upon his rounded muscle.

Clary moved her hand slowly, tracing it along Jace's toned chest. He began to let out that same silken moan under the contact. Clary grinned.

"Lay down, Jace," Clary commanded softly. Jace obliged, laying on his back completely, his hardened member even more so under the influence of the Pleasure rune.

Clary's hand never left his silken, bronzed skin as she continued to trace the faint lines of past applied runes. She molded the skin of his chest, playing haphazardly around his peaked nipples and down the ridges of his stomach. All the while, Jace groaned and tightened at the contact.

"How does that feel, baby?" she asked silkily.

"C-C-Clary," Jace stuttered. "Oh damn baby, it feels amazing. Like everyone of my cells is attached to a live wire, controlled by your touch. Hmmmm...fuck. Don't stop." She'd never dream of it.

Evilly, she began tracing his nipples with her tongue, barely touching the pinked skin with the tip. She felt Jace shudder beneath her, causing her to grin, successful. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, Clary worked her way down Jace's body, among the groans and moans of pleasure from Jace's panting mouth.  
She reached his rigid, aching cock, and began tracing it head with the tip of her finger. She ran her thumb over the bead of moisture gathered at he tip, using it to lubricate his head effectively. Jace's hips bucked into her hand involuntarily, making Clary chuckle at his obvious need for more friction.

"Patience, love," Clary crooned.

"Fuck patience." Jace stuttered through his clenched teeth. "I need you! Now!"

Clary obliged.

She plunged her lips around Jace's throbbing head, taking his entire length as deep as she could. When she felt his tip hit that back of her throat, she used one palm to encase the rest of him in warmth. She pumped him in and out of her, hallowing her cheeks when she reached the tip. She licked him, sucked him into oblivion, using the topside of her tongue to massage his underside as she stroked him effectively. He cried out at the feeling of her hot mouth wrapped around him.

"Uhn...oh..fuck," Jace panted, pushing his hips into Clary. She encouraged his movements, grabbing his hands and placing them on the back of her head. Jace weaved his fingers through her hair, gently gripping the threads as she thrust his hips forward.

She could tell by his stilted movements, that Jace was close to reaching his peak. She reached down, wrapping her arms around his backside. Digging her nails into his skin, she pulled his body deeper into her, encouraging him to reach his climax.

There was no warning, only the pants coming from Jace's frozen 'O' shaped mouth that clued her his release was coming. She took him all, cleaning him completely with her tongue. She began slowing her movements so that he could enjoy the length of his orgasm entirely.

"Damn... Fuck, baby," Jace gasped, trying to gather himself after such a strong release. Clary giggled softly.

"Proud?" he asked between slitted eyelids.

Clary grinned before answering, "So, I take it the rune works?"

"Fuck. You have no idea. What the hell was that?" he asked, looking at the fading mark upon his forearm.

"Pleasure," Clary answered simply. Jace grinned.

"It sure the fuck was," he sighed, completely sated. Clary sat back on the heels of her feet, enjoying the revelations of her new discovery. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she felt excited to tell Isabelle about what she'd found. But the look on Jace's face stopped all other thoughts outside of him and her. He looked like a predator, stalking his feeble and weak pray...Clary. She felt the heat rise up once again inside her. He looked amazing, completely bare and muscled, like a chiseled statue. He was covered by a slight sheen of residual sweat from his intense orgasm. And in his hand, tightly encased by his strong fist, resided his stele.

He growled low in his chest, "Your turn..."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They had spent the next seventy two hours wrapped into each other, each exploring the possibilities of the Pleasure rune over and over again. Jace had used it on Clary immediately after she had. The effects of which sent Clary into spasms and contortions of pleasure delivered by Jace's skilled hands and mouth. They used it on each other simultaneously, this time when they were joined as one. The orgasms were intense, but both agreed that they much rather enjoyed making love when they weren't under the influence of the rune. With the Pleasure etched on their bodies, the sex was raw, almost animalistic; good to get any built up sexual frustration out if needed. But the slow love making that took place without the runes aide, felt more meaningful, more passionate to them. So, they agreed to use it sparingly.

No one had attempted to bother them, leaving Clary and Jace to their own devices. Jace knew that no one would've been brave enough to attempt it, seeing as the last time they had seen anyone, Clary was ready to tear someone apart, limb by limb. But just to be sure they weren't disturbed, Clary placed a protection rune on her bedroom door, ensuring their privacy. It was just a precaution, but it gave them the sense of security they needed to completely lose themselves in each other, forgetting everything else for a time.

Every now and then, Jace would sneak out to the kitchen to grab the bare essentials for sustenance. But he wouldn't be gone for long, and the two would go at it again, food forgotten till they were both sated once more.

It was exactly what both of them needed, the chance to forget the outside world for just a couple blissful days, enjoying themselves completely.

But at the end of the three days, both of them begrudgingly agreed that they needed to face reality, and climbed out of bed. Clary giggled as she walked unsteadily to the bathroom, complaining about sore muscles and Jace's well skilled tongue. Jace sauntered in behind her.

They enjoyed the warm shower, feeling rejuvenated and refreshed after they were completely clean. Of course, it was null and void the moment Jace began rubbing Clary's body, in the name of good cleanliness, of course. Ten minutes later, they were both panting uncontrollably as Jace pumped in and out of her, the heat of the shower water only adding to their passion.

Now, with reality so fresh in his mind, Jace stood in front of his reflection, contemplating how to begin their day, knowing they were going to have to come face to face with a whole shitload of issues.

So many things were still a mystery. He tried to reflect on each one individually, but something else would spring to mind, offering even more questions than before. He was confused, and didn't know where to begin. He needed answers; the only people who could provide them, was a priest who was now dead, and an faerie elder, whom he despised.

How had life become so complicated? How was it that all of this was preordained by Heaven? Did the Angels not think he and Clary deserved a chance to be happy? Did they not deserve peace and harmony, like the rest of happy couples did?

The more he thought about it, the more angry he became.

"Baby," Clary crooned, suddenly appearing behind him. She wrapped her small arms around Jace's narrowed waist, her touch feeling like silk. "Whatcha thinking about?"

"Nothing," Jace mumbled, turning so he could wrap Clary up in his arms. "Just you...and me," he finished, a suggestive half smile forming on his lips. Clary smiled in return.

"Mmmm," Clary hummed. "Are you sure we have to leave? I've enjoyed our little den of looove." She pulled the syllables of the last word out for emphasis, wiggling her body in tune. Jace chuckled.

"Me too, baby," he murmured against her forehead as he began placing chaste kisses upon her heated skin. "But we can't stick our head in the sand any longer. We need to address everything." Clary sighed.

"I know," she grumbled. "I just don't know what to say to her when I see her."

"Your mother?" Jace asked. Clary nodded.

"In reflection, I know that she kept everything for me for my safety...or whatever. It still hurts, though." Jace nodded in understanding. Clary continued, "We've both been deceived so much lately. But you've been so strong through it all. How do you deal with it?" Jace laughed, practically a guffaw.

"Baby," he managed after he'd calmed from his humorless mirth. "Don't you remember what a brooding bastard I was after I'd found out about Valentine? I, by no means, am able to handle this shit well." Clary chuckled softly, rubbing the tip of her nose lightly back and forth on Jace's bare chest.

"You make me stronger, Clary," he whispered into her hair. She took in a deep breath, and sighed at his words. "Back then, I didn't have you. You were around, but at the time, we were both under the ludicrous assumption that you were my sister. I think that made it ten times harder on me, cause I was also fighting my feelings I had for you. Even then, you had a magnetic pull on my heart. But now," he paused, lightly grabbing her chin and angling her face so he could look into her eyes. "I have you. All of you. And that makes me stronger than anything else possibly could."

Clary sighed, pulling herself deeper into Jace's warm chest.

Jace reflected on his last statement, the truth of his words burning a whole into his heart. He remembered again what Father Thomas had said, and then about the no-sex clause from the Angel.

"Clary?" Jace asked, a sudden thought making itself clear.

"Hmmm?" she moaned into his golden skin.

"What do you think Father Thomas meant about me needing a catalyst?" Clary lifted her head to look at Jace, her eyebrows creased in contemplation.

"I don't know," she mused. "Perhaps you just needed to know who you were meant to be. Maybe the truth was the catalyst." Jace nodded, his thoughts in deep reflection.

"When did you start feeling different?" she asked after he was silent for several minutes.

"I don't know that I've ever felt different," Jace replied, shrugging his shoulder slightly. "I've always been protective of you, even when I thought you were my sibling."

"Okay, can we not talk about that related stuff anymore. It gives me the creeps." Clary shuddered. Jace laughed, kissing the top of her damp head.

"Of course, baby."

"Why are you asking about the catalyst?" Clary wondered.

"It's just something about how everything has played out is bothering me. How the Angel told me not to make love to you, until you had the ring. About how Father Thomas mentioned the catalyst, and how he also knew about the ring's existence. Then Vixie seemed surprised about the engagement, almost rudely so. But in the library, she mentioned that the ring was the final sign they needed to reveal the truth, explaining her reaction to it in the first place. I just wonder if the answers for the catalyst are hidden somewhere beneath all of that."

"Hmmm," Clary smiled, raising her head so that she could trail soft kisses along Jace's angled jawline. "I think I know what could spawn such a passionate response." Jace's eyes rolled into the back of his skull as Clary's tongue played with the soft skin under his ear.

"And what was that?" Jace asked, breathless.

"You made love to me," she answered simply, pulling back so she could look at him. "That was the catalyst. Why else would we be forced to wait? Why else would it have been a condition set by the Angel? You looked right past it, sweetheart. But I've always been under the assumption that when I made love to you for the first time, it would make the Heaven's shake and the Angels sing. What else could awaken a warrior of Heaven, than the most intimate of acts? I love you Jace, and our love has enough power to reanimate the dead, if need be."

Jace was speechless. His features frozen in his awed expression. Clary giggled.

"Come, my warrior," she crooned. "Let's make the Angels sing."

He followed her numbly to their bed, and made love to her once more.

* * *

**AN: I know what you're thinking, so I am adding this disclaimer – I am not, by any means, promoting the use of illicit substances to heighten the sexual experience. **

**That being said....that was totally hawt, right?**

**So this was a complete filler chapter, but it did answer the burning question about the no-sex clause AND we got to play with a rune...for fun this time. **

**I didn't get my 100 reviews (*wipes away a tear*), but I for sure appreciate those of you that did review. So, for my awesome reviewers, there should be a lemon coming in your inbox within the next couple of days. It will involve the experimentation they did with the rune...hot monkey sex, to be exact. Enjoy!!!**

**As always, reviewers get a preview, and little something something on the side...*wink, wink*  
**


	27. Bonus Chapter

This is not an official chapter. As I said last time, I promised my reviewers a bonus lemon. Well, this is it. It ended up being too long to send in email on fanfic, so I figured I'd just post it here for all my readers to view. Consider it my gift to you, as we venture into the ending of this story. It's not beta'ed, so be easy on me grammatically.

**I've looked through my reader list, and noticed a lot of you are underage. Please, skip this if you are. **

* * *

It was early in the morning, Jace knew that much. He could see the beginnings of the sun rising behind Clary's heavily curtained window. Clary laid on his chest, her respiration even and deep in her sleep. Jace kissed her head softly, careful not to wake her just yet. They had shared an incredible night together, playing repeatedly with his new found favorite rune, Pleasure.

As he waited for Clary to awaken, Jace thought over the night of amazing sex they'd had. He was young and didn't have that much experience with women, but what he had with Clary was phenomenal. Even before discovering the rune, the sex with Clary had been incredible. Their bodies seem to fit perfectly together, complementing each other – soft for hard, rough for gentle.

As Jace reminisced, he felt himself harden at the memories of Clary naked and writhing. He couldn't wait for her to awake so he could sate himself in her again and again. He was starting to become impatient when an idea struck him. Carefully, he entangled himself from Clary, attempting not to wake her. He knelt beside her for a moment, taking in her still and bare form.

She was beautiful; a goddess, an angel

Her vibrant, red hair was spilled out along his pillow. Her arms were held wide, leaving the expanse of her ample chest to bare. The skin of her body seemed to glow in the subtle light from the rising sun, giving her the appearance of a saint. Jace was struck by her.

She began to stir, her eyes f littering open slightly.

"Jace?" she asked, half asleep from the sound of her voice.

Without saying a word, Jace kissed his way down Clary's front, pausing at her chest to pay her breast their due homage. He encased one pink berried tip in his mouth, rolled it and sucked on it until Clary was writhing for more. He let that one go with a pop and moved to the other, showing that one the same attention.

He traced his nose down the center of her chest, along that perfect line that followed the valley of her breasts, down the smooth curve of her stomach. Her body had changed so much in the last year. Where she was thin and immature when they had first met, now she was all woman. Her body was toned with lean muscle. Her curves were defined and supple, perfect for Jace's hands and mouth.

He grabbed Clary's stele from the end of the bed where they'd left it the night before. When he approached her hip bone, he paused, suckling there slightly. His tongue ran small circles onto the skin pooling his mouth. He heard Clary moan heavily at the sensation, and his cock hardened tenfold.

He sat up, the skin making a slurping sound as he pulled away. Clary opened her eyes, staring at him exasperated. But before the question could be delivered, Jace began drawing the Pleasure rune right directly over the mark he'd left on her hip. He could see the skin smoking as he drew, the smell filling his nose and sending ripples through his body. It didn't smell awful like it used to, whenever he'd apply runes for battle. This smell was musky and heady, reminding him of sex. It fueled a Pavlov type of response in him, causing his dick to thicken in preparation.

Clary moaned as the Pleasure rune took effect, and Jace dove directly into her center, lapping at her fold like a starving man. She moved and writhed with pleasure, the sensations of her desire fueling his need, making him go faster and deeper with his movements. At one point, Clary grasped the back of Jace's head, thrusting her hips into his mouth to get him closer to where she needed him the most. And Jace obliged. It wasn't long until Clary was shuddering with her orgasm, her inner muscles clasping down on Jace's tongue as he drank her in. He helped her through the aftermath, coaxing as much out of her as he could get. When her climax had abated, Jace moved the stele directly to her inner thigh, drawing the rune once more upon her heated flesh.

The effect was immediate, sending Clary into another orgasm directly. Jace watched in awe as Clary writhed beneath him, without him even touching her body. As Clary began coming down once again, Jace traced the rune on his inner forearm.

The sensation of hot and cold ran underneath his skin, making his every nerve ending feel alive and energized. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back at the sensation as he let out a deep breath. He felt Clary's small hand encase his cock and begin pumping in earnest. His eyes flew open to see Clary staring at him with a heavy-lidded gaze.

Faster than he could prepare for, Clary pushed him onto his back and straddled his lap. She sheathed herself completely onto his thickened, throbbing cock. They both screamed at the feeling of being joined as one. The sensations shooting through their bodies were magnified by the rune, sending Clary into another orgasm immediately.

Instead of riding her pleasure to its fullest, she began bouncing on Jace's thighs, sliding over his rigid member at an inhumanly pace. Jace growled, sitting up slightly to help her movements. He grasped her hips, using his large muscled arms to lift Clary up and slam her back down onto his waiting shaft. They panted, and moaned through the heavy movements, both completely lost in the feelings of passion and pleasure.

At the point of the deepest penetration, Clary screamed Jace's name. The effect of which sent Jace into his climax, twitching and spilling into her completely. They both collapsed onto the mattress, spent and sated once more.

"That was fun," Clary giggled, breathless.

"Good morning, baby," Jace crooned.

"MmHmm," Clary smiled, then leaned over to tease one of Jace's tightened nipples.

* * *

**AN: Okay, so I've been looking through the outline for this story with my beta. It seems there are approx. 7 chapters left with a prologue. So, we are on the official countdown....**

**Leave me your love :D**


	28. Chapter 26 Decision

**AN: I wanted to say something about a comment I'd received from one of the readers, stating that sometimes, these characters seem a little more mature than teenagers. I thought about it for a while, and realized, that reader was right. However, in the MI series, Ms. Clare did specify that Shadowhunter children/teens maturate much faster than Mundanes, because they live dangerously and die younger. So, with that in mind – yes, Jace is eighteen and Clary is seventeen, but based on what Ms. Clare set up in the series, I see their maturation age around twenty and twenty one. Still young, yes. But they are considered adults in the Shadow World. And with the amount of shit they put up with, they deserve a little lovin', wouldn't you say? LOL!!!**

**That being said, let's continue with the last part of Sins of the Father...**

* * *

Chapter 26 – Decision

"We have to get up at some point, baby," Jace mused, watching his fingers lace in between Clary's. Her head was resting upon his chest, both completely content to not move a muscle for an additional three day stretch.

"Why can't we just stay in my room?" Clary asked desperately. "No one will bother us here. The outside world can go take a leap for all I care. I just want to be alone like this...with you, where no one else can interfere."

"Someday, baby," Jace whispered into her hair, then brushed the strands back out of her face. He looked deeply into her eyes, trying to see the future, hoping he could see one where they were together and happy, with no outside enemies plaguing their safety. Once again, he was disappointed; the only images he saw were flashes of the unknown danger that afflicted them both. Their enemy was fast approaching; Jace could feel it. And that truth scared him more than anything else ever had. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to squash the sudden wave of anxiety his visions had caused.

"Jace?" Clary asked, sensing the tension in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Clary," Jace said softly, battling the urgency he felt to get moving and formulate a plan for Clary's protection. "I just feel like there's not enough time to spend with you. I would like nothing more than to just forget everything else and lay here with you until we're old and gray. But, we need to address the danger that's coming, or it will consume us whole. We have an opportunity to thwart it before it..." He couldn't finish the thought.

"Before it takes me," Clary finished in a whisper. Jace's hold on her tightened.

"I'm not going to let that happen," he declared, his voice stern and clipped with heavy emotion.

"Promise me something, okay?" Clary pushed her self up on her elbow so she could see him better, her auburn hair cascading down her back and pooling on the pillow. "Promise that no matter what happens, you won't blame yourself."

Jace looked away from her hurriedly, not wanting to promise something so foolish. _Of course it would be my fault_, he thought dryly. _I'm the one that was created to protect her... _

"Don't do that, Jace," Clary said, grabbing his chin and turning his face towards her own forcefully. "Don't pull away from me. I mean it; I can't stand it! I can't stand the fact that you take so much responsibility upon yourself. This is _our_ fight, not just yours. Promise me that if I go down, you will continue to fight it."

"Clary, don't say shit like that," Jace warned, his features becoming like stone. Clary pushed herself up further, now sitting up fully on the bed. She pulled up the light sheet to cover hers naked body as she listened to Jace's retort. "If you want me to sit here and tell you that I would go on living if something happened to you, you are fucking insane. You are my everything, Clarissa. I can't even fucking imagine if...if..."

Jace took his hand and began to trace the worry lines on Clary's tense face, unable to finish his thought. He followed an imaginary line along her eyebrow, down to her lips and chin. His touch became reverent, almost like he was trying to memorize her features just as they were in that moment. When he spoke again, his tone was softer than before.

"If I could, I'd marry you right now, do you know that? I'd take you far from here, maybe to Idris. I'd build you a huge house on a green countryside, where we could grow old together, watching our children thrive. If I could, I'd make all this disappear. I just want you happy, Clary. I want us, together for all time."

Clary closed her eyes, trying to picture the vision Jace's words had created. She could almost see it, this estate that he envisioned for them, outlined by a vast expanse of foliage. She could see two small children running along the grass. A boy having her fire red hair; the other, a girl with golden curls falling down her back.

A lone tear fell from Clary's eye. It wasn't a sad tear, or one brought on by fear. It was shed for that future that Jace spoke of, one that she knew in her heart, would never come true, but that she wanted desperately. That was the life they both deserved to have, but with so much against them, it was a future that would never come to be. At least, not until all their enemies were destroyed.

With a new sense of urgency, she realized that she had a stronger reason to fight. Not just for her safety or for Jace's, but for their future: the picture perfect life she wanted for them both. It didn't matter what her mother had done; in the long run, Jocelyn's lies had ultimately shaped Clary's life, brought her and Jace together. She decided in that moment that she couldn't dwell on the past mistakes of others. If she found herself preoccupied with hate and revenge, the evil would take her from Jace. She couldn't afford to be side tracked or distracted, and she couldn't hide from her issues any longer either. She needed to fight, face all of it head on.

Clary pulled herself from her warm bed, and headed to the dresser to get dressed for the day. She pulled on some skinny jeans and a loose blouse, pulled her hair up in a pony tail and dusted some light makeup on. When she was done, she turned to find Jace already dressed, looking like a model in his Calivn Klein shirt and jean, and her heart palpitated at the sight. She realized just then, that no matter what danger they'd face, Jace would always look as hot as sin. She grinned widely.

"You ready?" Jace asked, a half smile on his face.

"As ready as ever," Clary replied. "Let's go."

*~*~*~*~*

Jace and Clary found a couple members of the team sitting in the kitchen, preparing to eat breakfast. Luckily, all of them were people she could trust; she knew she needed to face her mother and the others, but she'd prefer to take things slowly for now, maybe one liar at a time would've been nice.

Maia was sitting at the table, a copy of Cosmo sprawled out before her. Alec was sitting across from her, meticulously tightening his black army boots as was his custom. Isabelle was by the stove, mixing something in a large pot. She was dressed in her typical high fashioned outfit, donning her four inch heels as always, but covering her expensive clothing was a bright red apron; the contrast between the two made Clary giggle.

"What ya cookin', Iz?" she asked, coming up behind Isabelle to look inside the pot. The contents of it undulated and boiled inside with an occasional popping bubble. It looked like mush.

"Well, look who decided to join the living," Isabelle said with a smile, nudging Clary's arm playfully. Clary blushed, but ignored Isabelle's comment outright.

"This is oatmeal," Isabelle answered with a disgusted look on her face. Clary's nose wrinkled in distaste as she leaned in further to investigate the quality of the food.

"I know, I know," Isabelle answered. "It's the only thing Simon would let me attempt to cook. Aren't you proud? I haven't burned it yet!"

"That would be a first," Jace commented, taking a seat next to Alec at the table. Just then, Simon entered the room.

"Is this what you wanted, Iz..." he began to ask, holding up a purple bag that housed her many lip glosses. But when he saw Clary standing in the kitchen, he froze, staring at her expressionless for several seconds. Faster than lightening, he had Clary in a tight hug, causing her to grunt through a laugh at his speed and excitement to her reappearance.

"Are you okay?" Simon asked her hurriedly, twirling Clary around in a circle as he held her. "I've been so worried about you. Iz told me not to worry, that Jace would take care of you, but I've been a mess. I can't believe everything that happened, Clary."

"I'm fine, Simon," she giggled as he set her down onto her feet again. He pulled back and gave her a genuine smile. "I just needed some time to...take it all in, I guess," she added, her expression becoming more forlorn as she spoke. Simon nodded in agreement as Isabelle muttered 'That's not all she took in,' causing Clary to shoot her a dirty look as her face heated.

"Are you sure, Clary?" Simon asked, ignoring Isabelle's comment as well. "That was a lot of shit to hear about your Mom and the others."

"I'm sure, Simon. It was a ton of bullshit, yes, but I needed to hear it just the sa - " she replied, but was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen door opening.

Vixie glided into the room, pausing slightly as she saw Jace at the table. Her eyes widened in shock for a mere second, some strange emotion floating to the surface that Clary couldn't quite make out. Quickly, Vixie's eyes left Jace as she searched the room for Clary. When their eyes met, Vixie nodded slightly in greeting. Clary remained stone still, her expression void of emotion. She watched, guarded, as Vixie made her way to the large, oak table, and took a seat next to Maia. Ever friendly and peace loving, Maia smiled and greeted Vixie kindly.

Clary took a deep, steadying breath, and exchanged a comforting glance with Jace; his eyes had never left her since they'd entered the room a mere five minutes ago, and it caused her skin to heat at the thought of his fierce protection.

Clary felt Simon's grip on her tighten slightly, and she looked up in response. Simon gave her a reassuring smile, then gestured with his head towards Jace. "Go sit down," he said. "I'm going to help Iz with the chow." Clary nodded, and made her way to the table.

Jace held his hand out to her, guiding her to the place by his side. She went to sit, but felt Jace tug her into his lap instead. His arms snaked around her waste and held her firmly in place. Clary was comforted in Jace's arms, and she felt the tension she didn't know had formed in her shoulders slowly slip away. She leaned into him as he buried his face in her hair.

"It's okay, baby," he whispered into her ear; the feeling of his warm breath upon her skin made her stuttered breathing slow. She turned to place a small peck on Jace's forehead, a silent 'thank you' for his undying love and support.

Clary turned towards the group and saw Vixie staring at her and Jace with that same, strange emotion behind her eyes. It made Clary feel uncomfortable, and she moved to sit in the seat beside them.

Just then, the door swung open again, revealing a frustrated-looking Maryse, followed closely by Robert, Luke, and eventually, Jocelyn.

"I don't care what they've been through," Maryse was saying. "It's time they got out of that damned room, Robert." Jace watched as his adopted father shook his head and open his mouth to begin his retort, when their eyes met. Robert smiled tentatively at Jace, and the boy returned the gesture.

"Jace Lightwood, what the hell have you been doing in that room?" Maryse growled at him, both hands perched firmly on her hips as she stared accusingly at Jace and Clary. "I've tried for two days to get into that room, but one of you put a Ward on the door, and I know exactly who it was." She glanced pointedly at Clary, who was turning a deep shade of red.

"We needed time, Maryse," Jace answered, his voice calm. "And you need to stop treating us like children. We've been through enough and we are both of age soon enough. Plus, there is the fact that we were destined to be together, so enough with the third degree. Clary needed time alone, I gave it to her. End of discussion."

Maryse opened her mouth to retort, but Robert's firm hand on her arm stopped the words in her mouth. He looked at her pointedly, his gaze fierce and commanding. Maryse didn't say another word about it, just donned on an apron and joined Isabelle at the stove.

Luke and Jocelyn moved into the center of the room, both quiet and not making eye contact with anyone. Luke kept his hand on the small of Jocelyn's back in a supportive gesture; his eyes were steadily fixed on her, almost as if he was gauging her expression, or waiting for her to breakdown. Neither of them took a seat at the table, opting to keep a relatively large distance from the group, considering the size of the room. No one spoke, no one moved, and Jocelyn kept her eyes focused on the ground. The silence in the room was stiff, a sense of discomfort from the unsaid words between them. There was a huge, pink fucking elephant in the room, wearing tap shoes and dancing 'The Soulja Boy', and no one said one damn thing.

Five minutes and several uncomfortable coughs and throat clearings later, the table was set with strips of crispy bacon, a plate stacked with buttered toast, scrambled eggs, and a large bowl of grapes. The meal was complements of Maryse's fabulous timing and cooking prowess. Everyone grabbed a plate and dug into the food with moans of approval and muttered complements. Isabelle added her pot of lumpy oatmeal to the buffet, but only Simon spooned the mushy concoction onto his plate, kissing her warmly as she pouted when no one else sampled her food.

The room was relatively silent as they ate; only Maia attempting to show Isabelle the fashion spreads in the back of her magazine broke the soft hum of chews and swallows. The two girls struck up a conversation on pedal pushers and their merits, or lack there of, and soon, Maryse and Clary joined the conversation. The tense atmosphere loosened slightly as the girls talked, but there was still an undertone of awkwardness as they ate. Eventually, Jocelyn and Luke joined the diners, but sat at the opposite end of the table, to give Clary her space as needed.

Suddenly, a loud pop and a puff of smoke exploded in the middle of the kitchen, causing several people to gasp in surprise. Once the smoke cleared, Magnus stood in the middle of the room wearing a pair of green monster slippers, a blue silk robe, and a red bandana covering his hair. He yawned widely.

"Good morning, chickens," he greeted, scratching in butt as he plopped himself down next to Alec. "What's for grub?"

"What are you wearing, Mag?" Maia asked through a chuckle. Magnus brushed his hand around in the air flamboyantly, stating that it was too early for her mundane questions, and to readdress him once he'd had his morning coffee. Magnus took a moment to survey the room, looking pointedly at Jocelyn and Clary sitting at opposite ends of the table.

"O-M-G," he said dramatically, exaggerating each letter while rolling his eyes like the perfect queen. "Are we going to act like awkward bitties for the rest of eternity? It's getting incredibly dull."

"Mag," Alec warned softly, but Magnus, never the one for a sense of propriety, kept on with his tirade.

"I can't handle this shit anymore, seriously. Clarissa Fairchild," he stated firmly, pointing an accusing finger at Clary as she looked at him in surprise. "You need to stop acting like a god damned spoiled two year old and grow up. You act like your life is just so terrible. Please. Let me tell you, it could have been a hell of a lot worse, so quite your bitching. I will take you over my knee if I have to." Jace stood slightly in his chair, planning on kicking Magnus' pretentious ass, when Clary's hand grabbed his forearm tightly. A good ass kicking wouldn't have done any good anyway, for in the next second, Magnus's face lit up like a kid's on Christmas when he saw the plate of crispy bacon placed in front of him, all traces of his previous chiding attitude gone from his features.

"Thiff iff heaffen," he said through a mouthful of grease. "Where'ff the coffee?" Several of the others were glaring at him with mixed expressions of humor and disgust. Alec stared into his plate of food, trying his best to ignore the situation, but his lips were pursed together tightly, as if he was trying to hold back a smile.

Maryse went to grab a mug of coffee for Magnus, muttering something about 'premadonnas' and 'damned son in law', then slammed a steaming cup in front of the High Warlock with a grunt. Magnus froze mid-chew to examine the dark liquid inside. His face scrunched in disgust. After several moments of contemplation, he swallowed loudly and cringed.

"This is not premium," he said, quirking an eyebrow and pointing his purple fingernail towards the depths of his cup.

"It's all we have," Maryse replied through clenched teeth as Jace snorted, failing at his attempt to hold back a laugh.

"Oh no, no, no," Magnus said, shaking his head back and forth furiously. "This just will not do. I do not drink sludge. This crap belongs in someone's oil can, not in my mouth." He raised one hand in protest, staying off Alec's warnings, Maryse's rebuttals, and Jace's laughter. In an instant, his fingers snapped, and on the table sat twelve Styrofoam cups of quality steaming hot coffee from Starbuck's, recognizable by the logo printed on each container.

"Much better," Magnus smiled, taking his cup and sniffing the steaming fumes gratuitously. Maia smiled and thanked him for the treat, as did Simon, Isabelle, and Clary. Jace laughed at the incredulous look on Maryse's face, and Vixie gave a slight nod in acknowledgment. Robert seemed to ignore the whole situation, probably deciding ignorance was the best course of action. Alec continued to stare at his food, but the smile on his face was no longer hidden. Jocelyn and Luke continued their silent vigil, Jocelyn's eyes fixed on her plate, and Luke's gaze stuck on her.

"So, what's the plan?" Magnus asked, taking a sip of his steaming coffee. "Is anyone willing to talk about that? Or we not speaking about that either?"

"Shut up," Maia warned through pursed lips, while chancing a hesitant glance towards Clary, to see if Magnus' comment had bothered her in anyway. Magnus brushed off her warning and continued to sip her coffee.

"I think we should regroup, come up with some ideas," Isabelle suggested while she picked at a piece of toast.

"We need to come up with a game plan," Alec responded, ignoring his food now that the conversation had veered toward business. "I was thinking we need to do some recognizance; find out what rumors are out there. If this mysterious enemy is after Clary, perhaps he's tried to recruit more help besides Katia and her thugs."

"I don't feel comfortable with Clary out in public just yet," Jace argued, his features firm.

"Jace -" Clary began to argue, but was quickly interrupted by Jace's explanation.

"If the plan is to split up so we can cover more ground, then that means we will be down in numbers. I don't like not having more protection around you."

"I can take care of myself," Clary argued heatedly.

"Yes, you can, Clary. But your safety is not something I'm willing to gamble with," Jace concluded, his tone final. Clary huffed.

"He's right, Clary," Simon said with a soft tone. "You need to stay safe. If all of this is because some nut job wants to get his claws on you, then you need to stay out of the open." Clary crossed her arms over her chest, pouting like a petulant toddler who didn't get her way. The site of it made Simon laugh, and he tickled her side playfully. Clary started batting at his hand in attempt to get him to stop all while fighting off a smile, trying hard to keep her' seriously pissed off' look.

"Any other suggestions?" Robert asked, looking mostly at his wife for any objection. When Maryse remained stoically silent, Robert nodded towards his son to continue, a proud expression on his face.

"Okay, so are we all agree that we need to head out? Investigate and dig-up any leads?" Alec asked, looking among the group at large. Several people nodded in agreement. When no one answered or offered an opinion, Alec continued to lead the discussion down his avenue of reasoning.

"I think Luke, Maia, Simon, and Iz should head to the werewolves. Ask the pack if they've heard of anything brewing," Alec suggested. Simon and Isabelle nodded in agreement. Maia clapped excitedly.

"I haven't seen Mit in so long," she grinned, speaking of her good friend who lived in the pack. "And I can grab some fresh clothes from my cell, and that CD I was telling Simon about. I'm totally in!"

"I'll take Magnus and Dad to go visit the vampire clans," Alec suggested, ignoring Magnus' outward groan at the suggestion.

"What about the Warlocks?" Maia asked innocently. "Who's going to go see them?" Magnus scoffed.

"Honey, I'm the High Warlock of New York," he retorted briskly. "If there is anything going down, my loyal subjects report it to me." Maia nodded in understanding, her mouth curved in a silent 'oh'.

"The vamps are not particularly agreeable, since Simon's change," Luke said, breaking his vow of silence he'd taken since entering the room. Everyone turned to watch him as he elaborated. "They didn't like the fact that Clary thwarted their plans to kill him with the Mark of Cain. Raphael has been very hostile since, and it's taken a lot of negotiation to keep him copacetic since."

"What are you suggesting?" Alec asked.

"I think I should go with you," Luke answered. Jocelyn gasped and shook her head slightly, a look of worry on her face. Simon frowned and Clary grimaced at his suggestion.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Luke," Robert said. "The Vamps and the Weres have never really gotten along. Your two clans have been on the brink of war for years." Images of fighting Vampires and Werewolves flashed into Clary's mind, immediately reliving the night she and Jace had attempted to rescue a transformed Rat-Simon from the Hotel that Raphael and his clan resided in. She cringed as a vision of Luke in wolf form, tearing and slashing at the eager vamps, came to the forefront.

"That's true," Luke replied, his voice becoming more dark and serious. "But Raphael and I have an understanding."

"What kind of understanding?" Maia asked, watching her pack leader with a sense of hero-worship on her face. Luke smiled, but it wasn't humorous. The way his lips curled, showing his large, white teeth was menacing.

"He's deathly afraid of me," Luke answered with a shrug. "He wouldn't dare try anything when I'm there, especially under the circumstances." Maia chuckled and muttered something about 'stupid bloodsucker' under her breath. Realizing her error, she quickly looked at Simon, apology in her eye.

"I'm technically not one of those bloodsuckers anymore, Maia. So, no foul," Simon said, having heard her whispered curse perfectly with his supped up listening skills. "I've never been a big fan of Raphael either."

"So, are we agreed that Luke comes with us to speak with Raphael?" Alec asked, and every nodded in agreement.

"Then what do I do?" Clary asked, her pouting bottom lip out in full force. "Stay here while all of you go have fun?"

"Clary," Jace argued. "It's safer for you here, where I can protect you. The Institute is warded and no one can reach you here."

"That's not fair," Clary exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air and rolling her eyes dramatically. She knew she was acting immature, but she didn't care. In that moment, she felt like a rebellious teenager whose parents were keeping her from all the fun her friends were having. She felt left out of the action, and was plenty pissed about it.

"I want to fight," Clary stated firmly.

"No," Jace retorted. "It's not safe."

"I can't just stay here, cooped up like a prisoner. That's not a life, Jace. If someone is after me, I have the right to fight that predator head on."

"Not when so much is at stake," Alec retorted. "You have to remember, this is not just about you. The world is dependent on your safety."

"Says who?" Clary asked to the room at large, but her furious gaze stopped on her mother. Jocelyn had returned her eyes from her plate; she still stared helplessly, her expression void of any emotion.

"You heard what Father Thomas said, Clary," Isabelle said softly, trying to diffuse Clary with her tone.

"Yeah, I did. And none of it made any fucking sense," Clary yelled, standing from the table with her hands on her hips.

"It's still wise to play it safe and keep you home," Jace stated, standing next to her so that he could down at her; he meant the action to make him seem more menacing, but Clary's little five foot, two inch frame seemed more frightening in that moment, for she'd turned her raging stare on him.

"That's not safe, Jace Lightwood. That is hiding. I am not a coward and I am not afraid. You of all people should know that not facing your enemy head on could be a bigger mistake than just waiting for them to come to you. I don't know anything about Father Thomas except what I learned in the brief time we'd spent in his presence. He seemed like a kind person, but he could have been an imbecile for all we know."

"There is more to this than he told you, Clary," Vixie said from her seat; her voice was low, but it carried around the room so that everyone froze at her words.

"What?" Jocelyn asked, meeting Vixie eyes with a terrified, fierce stare. The two woman looked at each other, a silently intense conversation between them. Whatever Jocelyn interpreted in Vixie's gaze made her fear increase exponentially, as her face tensed and lined with worry. After several silent moments, someone finally spoke.

"What's going on?" Clary asked, looking between her mother and Vixie rapidly. But neither woman answered; they just continued to stare at each other intently. Jace stood next to Clary, his fists clenched tightly with tension. He took a step and placed himself behind Clary, then began rubbing his thumb along the small of her back. The movement would have been comforting, except with for tension in his stance. Finally, Vixie spoke.

"We need to visit the Queen," Vixie said matter of factly, finally turning to look at Clary. Her eyes were steely, but her expression didn't betray any hidden emotion. She was flat, completely void. And her stature scared Clary more than anything else had til that moment.

"Why?' Isabelle asked, not attempting to hide the disdain she held for the Seelie Queen.

"She has the answers Clary needs," Vixie responded, not looking away from Clary. "Perhaps then she will take her safety seriously."

"If you are hiding something, we need to know it now, Fey," Jace growled. Vixie shook her head.

"I don't know anything," she answered quickly. "But the Queen does. She is the only one, other than Father Thomas, that knows the truth."

"And what truth is that?" Jace growled.

"The truth about what the Demon wants to do with you," she answered. There was a dead silence following her statement.

"Do with me?" Clary asked, anger in her voice. "What does that mean?" But Vixie remained quiet.

"Tell me," Clary screamed, angry tears pooling in her eyes, but Vixie did not even flinch.

Clary was at her wits end; she was tired of the lies and the deceit. She was sick of being left in the dark, when all the bull shit drama seemed to be focused around her. Yes, she was a child when her mother had found out the truth of her origin, but that shouldn't have mattered. It was her life to live, her mistakes to make. No one should have been able to decide for her. And now that some really creepy enemy was desperate to get their hands on her, she was going into the biggest battle in her life completely blind. Well, no more...

"We are going to the Seelie Court now," she stated through gritted teeth. She felt Jace tense behind her, but she didn't care. "I want everything out in the open. No more secrets to keep me safe. Fuck that! If the world rests on my shoulders, than I fucking better be able to hear why."

"Clary -" Luke began, but she cut him off quickly.

"No," she yelled. "I will not take this shit anymore. I am going, period."

No one spoke, no one argued. There were several silent moments as everyone gritted their teeth in anxiety.

"I suggest that Mom, Dad, Vixie, Jocelyn, and Jace take Clary to the Court," Alec suggested tentatively. Jace started to argue, but Alec finished despite his protest. "She will have enough protection between you and three adult Shadowhunters, Jace. And Clary is a very good fighter, not to mention the face that Vixie is seriously bad ass. She will be fine."

"And what if we are ambushed?" Jace asked in a clipped tone.

"I will assure that two of the Queens best guards meet us at the front doors of the Institute," Vixie replied. "They will take us to the Court's entrance, and assure our safe return once we are done."

"But -" Jace began, but Clary was quick to interrupt.

"Jace, I am going. Period. This is the best security we can get. Either take it, or leave it; I will go by myself if I have to."

Finally, Jace nodded in consent.

"I will go make sure the proper arrangements are met," Vixie said, and she quickly left the room to contact the Court.

"Clary," Jocelyn said hesitantly, coming to Clary's side slowly. "I don't know what the Queen knows, I promise you."

"But you have an idea," Clary stated bluntly; not a question, but a fact. She knew her mother well, and the loaded stare she'd shared with Vixie earlier could only have meant one thing: this shit was about to get ugly.

"I do have a vague idea, based on an impression I got from Father Thomas," Jocelyn replied. "But I can't be for certain."

"Will you tell me?" Clary asked, already knowing the answer would be 'no'. When her mother tensed and hesitated in answering, Clary held one hand up, palm forward.

"Never mind," she said with a sigh

"I can't tell you how sorry I am about how all this has played out." Jocelyn sighed dramatically. "All I can express to you is how much I love you. I didn't want this for you...for us. But this is the hand I was dealt and I had to play it the best way I possibly could."

"Mom," Clary began, pausing a minute or two to gather her thoughts. "I understand things were difficult for you. And I understand that you were put in a hard position. But, can't you understand where I am coming from? How I feel about being lied to for so long?"

"Yes, baby. I can." Jocelyn reached for Clary, hoping to comfort her in a motherly way. But Clary recoiled from her mother's touch, backing up further into Jace's warm embrace.

"Clary?" Jocelyn asked with a trembling voice, the sadness and fear laced in her eyes.

"I'm not ready, mom," Clary answered simply. "I need...just...just give me time."

Jocelyn nodded, then made a solemn exit from the kitchen.

"Well, that was awfully dramatic," Magnus scoffed, picking his fingernails and tapping his furry green foot. Clary turned to glare at him. "Don't you look at me like that, Clarissa Fairchild."

* * *

**AN: And so, we are on the final countdown. SIX more chapters left. LET'S HEAR IT PEOPLE!!!**

**Send me your love, your theories, and your questions. Reviewers get a tease for the next chapter, and the one person who guesses the outcome correctly, get's their name in the next story. RIGHT ON?**

**POLL UPDATE: Most of you think either the Seelie Queen is the traitor, or Maia. Hmmm.... Maybe we will find out soon!**


	29. Chapter 27 Set in Motion

Chapter 27 – Set in Motion

Since Isabelle had left the steps of the Institute, arm in arm with her mate, Simon, she had to listen to a constant babbling from Maia.

"I'm so excited to see everyone. There are so many people I can catch up with, even if it's only for a second or two; it's been so long since I've been home," Maia rambled quickly. It was apparent that the young werewolf was excited to visit her pack, but Isabelle didn't think she could put up with any more of her constant chattering.

"I wonder if Mitt ever found his brother; you know, he was missing for a long time after he'd found out Mitt had been changed into a Were, so he never got to explain to his brother that he wasn't as feral as legend had depicted our kind to be."

"Do you think he could help us dig up any information?" Simon asked, pointedly trying to direct the conversation into something worthwhile.

"Well," Maia began, a contemplative look on her face. "Out of all the people in the pack, there is one person who usually keeps tabs on all the Shadow World gossip."

"And who is that?" Isabelle asked as she slyly winked at Simon, thankful that his method of distraction had seemed to work.

"Her name is Delilah," Maia answered, a look of mild disdain on her face. "She was turned a few years before I was. She was the typical Ice Princess; captain of the Varsity cheerleading squad with a body to die for. She was the bane of most teenage girls' existence, and a wet dream for all the guys. She was always in the middle of everyone's business, and that trait seems to have carried over to her new life as well. No one really knows how she came to be a Were; she's never divulged that information, but there were rumors for a while that a teacher she'd been sleeping with under the rug was a closet Were, and that he bit her during one of their sex-capades." Maia chuckled slightly. "I'm not sure if it's true, but it coincides with her personality perfectly. She's really something else, and she never stopped her incessant desire to be knee deep in all the gossip. So if there is anything being whispered amongst the halls of the Shadow World, Delilah knows about it."

"Perfect," Simon replied. "We'll start with her. Anyone else worth talking to?"

"Several," Maia answered. "But the more shady characters are most likely going to know more about demon activity. I'm not usually around those types of Weres; Luke keeps them out of our pack just so they don't cause us any trouble, but I know where to find them if Delilah's information comes up short."

"Are you afraid of them?" Simon asked her, noticing the reluctance in her voice as she spoke of the more volatile Weres.

"Yes," she replied. "And no. I know I am a better fighter now, and with you both by my side, we'd be fine if it came down to a fight. I just don't want to start any trouble amongst our kind. Their group is small, but one of them, Titus, has been looking to replace Luke as alpha for a while now. He'd challenged Luke once before, but lost. Luke didn't kill him though; he let him live with the scars of the battle, to remind him and the others not to challenge him again. I don't think Titus was deterred by Luke's warning though."

"When did that happen?" Isabelle asked, her expression confused.

"Right before I met you all," she answered. "It was after Luke had fought the previous Alpha and took his place as our leader. At first, there were many challenges against Luke; several werewolves thought that an ex-Nephilium couldn't hang with the big boys, but he'd taken each of them down, only letting Titus, the most ruthlessly violent of them all, live."

"I saw him after he'd won his title," Simon said, thinking back to the time when he, Jace, and Clary had hidden inside Luke's home as the man had spoken to two of Valentine's followers. Luke had looked like he'd just been put through a garbage disposal, his clothes ripped and torn, and covered in blood. "He was a bloody mess."

"That was nothing, I'm sure," Maia said solemnly. "We heal pretty fast. You should have seen him when the fighting had stopped. I don't think there was a spot of flesh on him that wasn't ripped to the bone." Maia shuddered at the memory.

"So, this Titus still hangs out in town with his followers?" Isabelle asked. Maia nodded.

"As far as I know, but I haven't been around the pack for a while now. I do know that if anyone was dabbling in something they shouldn't be, it would be Titus and his cronies."

"Maybe we should pay him a visit," Simon mused, his tone calm.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Maia answered firmly. "Especially without Luke here."

"Why not?" Isabelle asked. "We're not afraid of a bunch of pups." Maia sighed, exasperated.

"You need to remember that the Weres are not exactly on the best of terms with vamps or the Shadowhunters," Maia answered. "The animosity runs even deeper with those that roam on the outside of the pack, like Titus and the others. Even though Simon isn't a vampire per se, there are definitely some differences that would set their teeth on edge. Trust me; if we have to talk to Titus, it would be better to do it with Luke."

Isabelle and Simon remained silent, and Maia took their somber demeanor as an agreement to wait to talk to Titus. They walked for several more blocks, each contemplatively quiet as the cars hummed by on the busy New York streets. The sun was high in the sky, and the waves of heat were rising up from the hot pavement below.

Five minutes later, the trio found themselves outside the abandoned jail cells that housed Maia and her pack. They had congregated there long before Luke had taken over as leader, and the glamour around it made it look like it had remained abandoned. In reality, the place was hopping with werewolves of all ages, and Maia couldn't help but smile, glad to be home after so long.

"Hey Mitt," Maia greeted a young man that was stationed behind an old, decrepit counter that probably once served as the secretarial station for the jail. The boy was tall and lean, but his arms were defined with thick ropes of muscle. His boyish features were endearing, giving him the 'cute boy next door' look. His golden hair fell across his head in waves, framing his vivid blue eyes. He looked up to see who had called his name, and his face lit up when he realized it was Maia.

"Maia," he cried, coming around the corner to wrap her up into a tight hug. "Where have you been, kid? I haven't seen you in ages." He twirled Maia's tiny body around as she laughed at his antics. After a moment or two, Mitt set her down on the ground. He beamed at her as she began to explain all her adventures she'd had being a member of the team. His attention was engrossed, and he hung on every word she spoke.

Isabelle watched the exchange with curiosity, noticing how enthralled Mitt seemed to be with Maia. She gently grabbed Simon's wrist, and pulled him away so that the two wolves could have a private moment to catch up. Simon didn't seem to need an explanation of Isabelle's intent; he simply followed her until they were a couple steps away, safely out of hearing distance.

"He likes her," Isabelle giggled, trying to stifle her humor so as to not interrupt Maia's storytelling. Simon nodded in agreement.

"I can smell his attraction to her from here," he said.

"Ewww," Isabelle grimaced. "You mean you can smell his peen sweat from here? That's disgusting."

"Noooo," Simon chuckled. "I can't smell his, um...arousal. I can sense his hormones fluctuate; it gives off a different smell, depending on what is pumping through his blood."

"Really?" Isabelle asked, intrigued. She was constantly learning about Simon's new abilities. Some of them were evident immediately after his change into the Veritas Lamina, others had developed as the days went on, even more so after they had mated.

"It would amaze you how much can be deciphered through the changes in pumping blood. For example," Simon began, coming around Isabelle's back so he could encase her in his arms as he spoke. "I can tell Mitt is attracted to Maia because of the added pheromones his body produces when he sees her. The blood changes from a slightly bitter smell, to warm and inviting, like warmed chocolate."

"Hmm," Isabelle hummed, leaning back into Simon's strong chest. "What about Maia? Is she aware that he feels that way for her? Does she feel the same?" Simon thought for a minute as he placed a soft kiss on Isabelle's temple.

"Her blood smells of spice and citrus. The only thing pumping in her blood is a small amount of adrenaline. She's excited about whatever they are talking about. Perhaps, retelling the stories of her battles has caused her to relive some of the rush she gets when she fights, but she is not aware of how Mitt feels...or at least, she is very good at concentrating on one specific thing."

Isabelle giggled as she stroked the skin of Simon's forearms that were tightly woven around her waist. She could feel the skin of his arm pimple under her touch, and she smiled smugly at his reaction to her smallest of caresses.

"Can you smell me?" she all but whispered, tilting her head slightly to give Simon better access to the pumping vessel in her neck. Simon took a deep breath, not to take in her smell better – he could smell Isabelle's blood for miles – but to somehow steady himself under the wave of lust that was coursing through her body.

"I can always smell you," he answered, trailing soft kisses along the thick cord that fueled the blood to her brain. "And not only your blood. I can smell every part of you, even if you weren't as wet as you are now." Simon gently caressed the outside of Isabelle's thigh, causing her to shift slightly under the sudden intensity of the conversation.

"I can smell you when you worry, I can tell when you are happy," he continued, emphasizing each point with a small lick of his tongue on her heated skin. "But it's nothing compared to how your blood smells when we make love. It's...intoxicating, sensual. And the taste is....euphoric."

"Mmm," Isabelle moaned, falling head first into the familiar cloud of passion that Simon seemed to put her in every time he got close to her. They'd found that with his official marking of her as his mate, their passion had only doubled each time they'd made love. Every time was like the first, only more intensely satisfying for them both. It was at the point where neither of them could keep their hands off each other for long, and even the smallest of touches by either of them sent the other to the edge of orgasm in seconds. Having Simon kissing along her neck, while his fingers were tracing the flesh at her leg, was almost cruel. Isabelle was having to fight off her climax, as to not bring attention to the fact that they were so intimately bonded in front of Maia and her friend. Simon must have sensed her worry ― perhaps a change in her blood chemistry tipped him off ― for he began to pull away from her with a heavy sigh.

"Tonight," was his one response, a promise and a fact in one. Isabelle could only nod in agreement.

"Hey guys," they heard Maia call, waving them both over to join her. Isabelle took a deep, steadying breath, trying to stiffen the wave of lust flowing through her. Simon chuckled at her attempts, and she swatted at him playfully as they both rejoined Maia. "Guys, this is Mitt. He's one of the best Weres you'll find. He's been part of the pack for five years or so, right?" She turned to look at Mitt for confirmation. The boy nodded in agreement.

He looked to be about nineteen years of age, but his looks could be deceiving. Once bitten by a Werewolf, the toxin from the disease causes the aging process to slow down significantly. A human that was infected at the age of nineteen may not look any older than that for the next decade or so. Mitt's physical appearance wouldn't offer them any information on how old he actually was.

"Hi," Mitt replied, holding his hand out to Simon first. "I'm Matthias, but most people call me Mitt."

"Awe, Matthias the Saint?" Isabelle asked, intrigued as she shook his hand in polite greeting.

"That's who I was named after," Mitt replied, nodding his head in confirmation. "My parents were avid Catholics and loved the story behind the last Apostle."

"He was the one who―"

"Replaced Judas, the betrayer," Mitt answered her before she could finish. "Yup, that's the one. Are you a studier of Catholicism?"

"The Clave makes a point to educate their Shadowhunters on all major religious beliefs," she replied. "I am well versed in most of the Catholic legends."

"Must come in handy," Mitt replied.

"You have no idea," Isabelle retorted as Maia nodded in agreement. "I feel like we've been eyeballs deep in the stories of old. And it's been kind of unnerving to find that many of the craziest ones were in fact...true."

"That's usually how things turn out, right?" Mitt asked with a chuckle. "The implausible always seems to be the answer to world's craziest quandaries. So, what brings you to our dreary little hovel?" he asked with a wide grin. He looked back to Maia and gave her a happy and joyful smile.

"Well," Maia began. "We were hoping to talk to Delilah. Is she around?"

"Delilah, huh?" Mitt asked, his face falling into an unreadable expression. There was tension around his eyes, and his gaze began to dart between Maia, Isabelle, and Simon timidly.

"Yeah," Maia replied, looking curiously at Mitt's change of attitude. "Have you seen her?"

"No," Mitt answered flatly. "No one has seen her in days."

"That's strange," Maia mused. "She's never really gone for very long, always keeping close to the pack."

"It is strange," Mitt answered. "Chantal has been looking for her and can't seem to find any trace of her. It's like she just up and disappeared."

"Who's Chantal?" Simon asked.

"She's Delilah's best friend," Maia answered. "She's just like Delilah, but not as flirtatious and outgoing as her. The two of them met shortly after their turning, and they've been inseparable since. In fact, they are usually joined at the hip; it's odd that they are not together. Has she said where she thinks Delilah might be?" she asked Mitt, a worried look on her face.

"She said that Delilah was supposed to meet her at Taki's exactly three days ago for breakfast, but that she never showed. Chantal tried to follow her scent; she followed it down a darkened alley, where it just disappeared into thin air. She hasn't seen or smelled a trace of her since."

"Has anyone else gone missing?" Simon asked, his voice that eerie calm that he'd developed since his second changing. Mitt eyed him wearily before answering.

"Yes," he said reluctantly. "Astra has also been missing for two days or so." Maia gasped.

"Astra?" she asked sharply. "She's tough as nails and Luke's third in command. She wouldn't just abandon her post with Luke being needed at the Clave Council. She's needed here."

"I know," Mitt answered. "That's why we are concerned. It isn't like her to disappear."

"Why haven't you told Luke about all this?" Isabelle asked. "If members of his pack have gone missing, he should know about it, right?"

"We wanted to tell him," Mitt answered. "But he's been so busy with all the Clave crap, we didn't want to bother him. Marcus's murder at the Clave Council set back our relations with the Nephilium, and without Luke's intervention, I'm not sure the Were community would have kept up our alliance with them."

"He needs to know," Maia stated sharply. "He is not going to be happy to have been left in the dark about this."

"You're right," Mitt answered. "But it wasn't my call to make. Things have been a little tight around here, since you've been gone."

"What do you mean?" Maia asked, concerned.

"Titus," Mitt answered simply; he didn't need to elaborate further.

"He still making a bid to take over the pack?" Maia sighed, exasperated.

"Of course," Mitt answered. "He's been harassing the members of the pack, trying to dig up information about Luke."

"What does he want to know?" Isabelle asked, concern etched on her face.

"Where he is, when will he return, and so on," Mitt replied in a exasperated tone. "We can see right through his bullshit, though. He just wants to know if this would be a perfect time for an invasion onto our territory. But he did ask about something really strange once," he mused, one eyebrow quirked as her remembered the encounter.

"What happened?" Simon asked, his voice calm but coolly demanding all the same.

"I was sitting at my post here at the desk, when Titus came storming in with his guards, Brutus and Jebith. He leaned over the counter and began with his usual tirade of questions: where's Luke, did he say when he was returning, how long has he been gone..." Mitt said, in a mock of Titus' voice. Maia giggled at his impression. "I answered him as vaguely as possible. I didn't want to ignore him outright, because we had a newly changed Were in the building, and a fight between us would have set her off."

"A new Were?" Maia asked, beaming. "Who is it?"

"Her name is Maggie," Mitt replied. "She reminds me a lot of you, actually. I think you'd like her -"

"Focus guys," Isabelle said. "What else did Titus want to know?"

"Well," Mitt answered. "After his usual questions, he started to say something about some Angel Children, or something. I didn't understand what he was talking about. But he wanted to know if Luke had ever mentioned them. I denied it, because to my knowledge, Luke had never said anything about it. And it didn't make any sense to me. Angels are hermaphrodites, aren't they? Non-gender specific? They can't have kids..." Mitt paused when he saw the stunned and terrified look on Maia's face. She had become stone silent, her mouth held slightly ajar.

"What's wrong?" Mitt asked, placing his hand gently on Maia's shoulder. She didn't answer him, just continued to stare, her face stricken.

"Nothing is wrong," Simon answered for her, putting a forced smile on his face. "She's fine, just as little shocked to be home. Did Titus say anything else that bothered you?"

"Well," Mitt began slowly, exchanging glances between Simon and Maia rapidly. "He said that if any of our pack goes missing, to let him know. That he would help look for them while Luke was gone at Council. Of course, when Delilah went missing, Astra didn't want to go to Titus for help. No one here trusts him, with good reason. Then Astra went missing, and we...are just trying to keep the rest of us safe until Luke gets back." Mitt became crestfallen at that moment, the stress of missing pack members weighing heavily on his heart. His expression pulled Maia out of her shocked trance, and she placed her hand on his back to comfort the young Were.

"Don't worry, Mitt," she said softly. "Luke is back. We will tell him about everything that's happening. He'll come, I promise."

"Luke is here?" Mitt asked, his face brightening at that knowledge. Maia nodded her head with a smile.

"Let me grab some things from my cell, then we will head back to the Institute to tell him everything, okay?" Mitt nodded in response.

"Guys," Maia said, turning to address Simon and Isabelle. "Wait here. I'm going to grab a bag of things, then I'll be right back and we can head out."

"Do you think we should talk to Titus first?" Simon asked. Maia shook her head.

"Not without Luke," she answered. "It seems Titus knows more than he should. We need Luke to question him. I'll hurry and pack a bag." With that, Maia turned and hurried down a darkened corridor towards her small cubby of a room.

"She seems different," Mitt mused softly, looking towards the hall that Maia had just left through. "More confident and stronger than before. It suits her."

"Maia has seen a lot of turmoil in that last year or so," Simon responded. "She's been a huge asset to the team."

"Plus, she's lookin' a lot hotter nowadays, wouldn't you agree Mitt?" Isabelle asked, a knowing smile on her lips. Simon nudged her softly, trying to get her to cool it with her meddling ways. But the smile that lit up Mitt's face at her comment spoke volumes about his feelings for her.

"She was always beautiful," Mitt replied. "She just has more of an edge to her now."

The three of them stood and talked for several minutes. Mitt had noticed that Simon wasn't completely a vampire, so he'd asked about his origins. Answering Mitt's questions was a little hard to do honestly, without divulging secrets about Clary's abilities, but he did as best as he could. Mitt was amazed to discover that the current vamps were essentially mutants from their original intended design, Simon being the only Veritas Lamina in existence...that they knew of, anyway. Soon, Maia came through the door, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

"You ready?" she asked, and Isabelle nodded in agreement. However, Simon stopped and stared at Maia. There was something different about her, something in her blood that seemed...off...to Simon. He watched as Maia sauntered over to their small group, a sly smile on her face.

"My room was a complete disaster," she said with a chuckle. "It took me forever to find that damned CD for you Simon. Here," she said, shoving a CD into Simon's hand. He looked down at it and recognized the name of the band that Maia had been talking about for weeks. She had wanted him to listen to their latest release, but hadn't had time to pick up her copy from her room, or swing by a music store.

"We better get going, Mitt," Maia smiled, turning to fully address him. "We'll get Luke on all the drama down here, pronto. In the mean time, take care, alright?" She leaned in quickly and planted a heated kiss squarely on Mitt's shocked mouth. It took him a minute to actually realize what she'd done, but once he snapped out of his stupor, he wrapped his arms around her tiny waist, and pulled her into his body. Maia wrapped her arms around Mitt's neck, one hand playing with his golden hair. They both simultaneously tilted their heads, opening their mouths to deepen the kiss.

Simon and Isabelle watched unashamed, both slightly shocked at the sudden turn of events. They exchanged surprised glances with each other, both wondering if they should leave the two to finish their kiss in privacy.

Finally, Maia broke away from Mitt's mouth. She grinned and turned to walk out of the building. Simon and Isabelle followed behind her, leaving a stunned and smiling Mitt in their wake.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I've decided," Magnus announced as they trudged the dirty streets of New York, in the direction of the vampire encampment. "That I no longer want to be a part of this team if it entails trawling through garbage, rat infested filth."

"Magnus, will you stop with the princess stuff," Alec growled; Magnus wouldn't pause with the complaints lately, and it was beginning to wear on Alec's frazzled nerves. "Just suck it up, baby. It's not that bad."

"Easy for you say," Magnus countered. "You are used to living in slime."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Alec asked, stopping suddenly to glare at Magnus.

"It means that the Institute could use a little...redecorating. It needs more spice. Everything is just so depressingly dull; it's disgusting."

"Well, you don't need to stay there any longer, then, if it's so offensive to your delicate nature..."

"Ladies," Luke interrupted with a growl. "Am I sensing some tension here?"

Magnus and Alec remained silent, neither one of them looking at the other. They'd both suddenly found the garbage that lined the streets incredibly interesting. Luke sighed, exasperated.

"If you two can't focus and leave all the drama out of it, then you can go back to the Institute and I will do this on my own."

No one said a thing, but Alec rolled back his shoulders and gave Luke a slight nod that he'd behave himself.

Truth was, that after the night in the library, Magnus and Alec tried to talk out their issues. It seemed they'd come to an understanding, agreeing that Magnus had to be misleading in order to protect his cover, but that his feelings for Alec were genuine. However, it didn't change the fact that Alec was hurt by all the deceit, and when Magnus wanted to jump back into bed like nothing had happened, Alec felt a little put out. They'd been bickering back and forth ever since, and their relationship seemed to be teetering on the edge.

"I'm done with this little adventure," Magnus announced with a wave of his hand. "I've decided that I will head back to my loft, see if there is any news circulating among the Warlocks."

Luke nodded in agreement, but Alec remained stoic. With a puff of smoke, Magnus was gone. His essence was still present, but the spell he'd casted had made his body invisible so that he could leave undetected. Alec knew he was still there, watching his reaction to Magnus' sudden disappearance, but Alec didn't want to play the Warlock's mind games, and attempted to act as carefree as ever, when secretly, he was upset that they'd been fighting nonstop.

"Let's go," Alec said gruffly. "We need to get this done."

"You're armed, right?" Luke asked. Alec nodded, opening his green button up to reveal several large seraph blades tucked into the sides of his armor belt. "They're not going to be happy that I woke them up in the middle of the day, so be prepared."

The pair of them walked the last block to the old, broken down hotel that housed the Vampire coven, led by the notorious Raphael. He was the same Vampire that tried to barter the Vampire's pledge in the demon fight in Idris for Simon's life. Raphael felt that because Simon was a Daywalker, he was a bane on the Vampires' existence, and should be destroyed. That wager had forced Clary to place the Mark of Cain on Simon's forehead, in order to stay Raphael's hand, starting a chain of events that would eventually transform Simon into the Veritas Lamina, a fact that Raphael was not aware of...yet.

Luke approached the small hole in the building that led to the basement entrance. He knew that Clary and Jace had used the same opening that night they'd rescued Simon, the rat, from the Vamps, a little over a year ago. He and his Werewolves used the same access point when they'd attacked the coven that night, in order for Clary and Jace to escape. To this day, he didn't understand what Jace was thinking, allowing Clary to come into a building filled with salivating Vamps who just needed the tiniest of excuses to drain a human dry...legally. Because Clary entered their turf uninvited, they could've killed her outright, without punishment from the Clave. Luke was enraged at Jace's idiocy, but was also thankful that he'd kept Clary safe...for the most part anyways.

In one quick step, Luke jumped down the hole and landed softly onto the basement floor; Alec quickly followed behind him. Immediately, they both scoped out the area, looking for any stationed guards at the entry. Alec held a glowing blade in his hand, the light of it illuminating the shadowed room slightly. Luke's claws had elongated, his teeth barred. After several moments of silence, they were both satisfied that no one was watching, and they began to make their way into the lobby of the hotel.

Silently, the pair tiptoed into the main room. The walls were coated with mildew, the plaster falling free to the ground. Several areas had old wilting wallpaper draping downwards, as if the glue that had held them in place had finally given out. Several chunks of wood and concrete littered the floor, and there were large holes in the walls, evidence from the last time Luke had visited the place and fought the horde of Vamps.

Alec looked at Luke expectantly, as if to say 'what next, Chief?' Luke took a moment to scan the area, noting that the large balcony above them was completely vacant, but knew that it led to where the Vamps slept during the day. The grand staircase that led to the upper levels was broken and missing large pieces; neither him nor Alec would be able to use it. It was probably for the best, however. If Luke, a full grown Werewolf, were to enter the lair of sleeping Vamps, they'd awaken with one bad case of Crabby pants, and Luke wasn't looking for a fight, only information. So, with that in mind, Luke stood in the middle of the room, calmed his body so that his teeth and claws retracted, and called out to the Vamps.

"Raphael," he cried, the sound reverberating around the room. "Raphael!"

There was a dead silence for several minutes, not even the movement of their breathing could be heard. Luke and Alec listened intently, willing their bodies to remain still so that they could hear any movements the vampires might make. It seemed like an hour had gone by, but only moments later, a small sound of moving gravel resonated from the balcony above. Both Luke and Alec's gazes snapped toward the sound.

"Why have you come here, Wolf?" Raphael's irritated voice called from the dark. "How dare you interrupt our slumber."

"We come on Clave business," Luke responded, attempting to keep his voice as calm as possible. "We need to talk."

"Talk?" Raphael responded with a bitter laugh.

"Your pathetic excuse for a combined hunting team has ignored the Vampires for almost a year now, and you want to talk to us now?"

"We have not ignored the Vampires," Alec responded, acting as the voice for the hunting team. "We have a representative for your kind -" he began, but was interrupted by Raphael's sudden appearance. With a gust of rapid wind, Raphael was standing directly in front of Alec, and enraged expression on his face.

"That mutant is _not_ a Vampire," he spat, his eyes gleaming with malice. "He's a canker that needs to be destroyed."

"Simon's origins are not up for discussion right now, Raphael," Luke cut in. "We need to talk to you about something else."

"And this couldn't have waited until sunset?" Raphael asked sharply, the tired bags under his eyes more evident now. "It's the middle of the day."

"We apologize for the time," Alec said quickly. "But it couldn't be helped."

Raphael turned away from the pair of them, coming to sit on a large, decrepit wing-back chair. He sat gruffly, causing a cloud of dust to rise from the chair and encircle him. He swung one leg over the arm rest, then held his arms out wide as an invitation for Luke to begin his questioning.

"Have you heard any rumors around lately? About demons or attacks against Downworlders?"

"Did you seriously awaken me for some petty dealings with rumors?" Raphael asked, incredulous.

"The answers are more important than they may seem," Luke answered quickly. "And we need them now." His voice was calm, but commanding, and Alec noticed how Raphael seemed to flinch under Luke's steady gaze.

_He is afraid of him_, Alec thought with morbid humor, and he found himself to have a new found respect for Lucian Greyback, the Shadowhunter turned deadly Were.

"There are rumors of stronger demons," Raphael reluctantly responded. "A couple of my coven have been slaughtered by a demon kin that would've normally not been a problem to take out. They seemed faster, more resilient. But I assume you know this already, seeing as you are supposed to be hunting the demon filth in the first place." Raphael's tone of voice held a thick layer of disdain that Alec did not miss.

"Why were your men fighting the demons?" Alec asked, but knew the answer before Raphael responded.

"Someone has to," Raphael spat. "It seemed that your hunting team had taken a vacation, and the demons are growing in number and viciousness. It's almost as if they are looking for something, invading every nook and cranny of the Shadow World. Perhaps you can answer a question for me," Raphael asked, looking directly at Alec.

"Where have you been in the last week or so?"

"We've had some...setbacks and had to regroup," Alec answered. "That's why we are here, to gain more information so we are better equipped at finding what the demons want." Luke cringed at Alec's words, because a knowing light flickered in Raphael's eyes, leading Luke to believe that Alec had inadvertently given the Vamp more information than he'd intended.

"I know you know what the demons are looking for, Nephilium," the vampire sneered. "Do not play me for a fool." Raphael sprang up from the chair, suddenly standing fully erect. He clasped his hands behind his back, and began to slowly encircle the pair.

"How about we strike a deal," he said slowly, methodically. "Information for information?"

"There are things that are not our place to tell," Luke answered him. "But we will comply as best as we can, without jeopardizing our security, deal?" Raphael nodded in agreement.

"You first," he smiled.

"Are there any rumors circulating among your coven," Luke asked pointedly. "Anything about a demon or a witch seeking hired aide."

"There was one about Katia sniffing around New York," Raphael answered. "But I assume you knew about her. The destruction over at St. Patrick's has Nephilium stamped all over it. And there were traces of Katia's blood at the site as well."

"Did you scavenge the site, or what? How did you know -" Alec began, but was cut off by Raphael.

"Ah, ah, ah, young padawon. That's not how this works. You ask, then I answer. One for one, got it?"

Alec nodded, apologetic.

"Now it's my turn," Raphael sighed. "Let's see. Where to begin." He continued to walk around Luke and Alec, a contemplative look on his face.

"We don't have all day," Luke interrupted. "We are in a time crunch."

"You are the one who woke me up, Wolf," Raphael spat. "If I want to take my damn time, I will."

Luke remained quiet, but the anger and frustration was building underneath his calm demeanor, and it seemed Raphael could sense that his restraints were failing. The vampire's expression changed from smug, to complacent in seconds.

"Alright," he sighed dramatically. "What do you know about the missing vampires?" Raphael paused to gauge Luke's reaction to his question, but was surprised to see confusion on both Luke's and the young Shadowhunter's faces.

"Missing vampires?" Alec asked quickly. "What do you mean?"

"You don't know?" Raphael asked, genuinely taken aback. He thought that if anyone would have gotten wind of the disappearances, it would have been the Institute. That was its main purpose for existence: to protect the Shadow World and aide the Downworlders when needed. It shocked him that the mixed hunting team didn't seem to know anything about it.

"We haven't heard anything," Luke answered. "We've been kind of distracted by other matters lately."

"There are several Vamps missing from my coven," Raphael began. "Some of them were taken from their beds as they slept."

"Is there a commonality between the missing?" Alec asked. "Something that could explain why they were chosen?"

"They were all very young," Raphael responded. "New to this way of life by only a mere couple of years. But they were all strong, some of our best fighters."

"How many?" Luke asked, the wheels turning in the back of his mind.

"Five," Raphael answered sharply. "One of which was a fledgling, only weeks old."

"We will get on this asap," Alec responded. "You have my word."

"Your word means nothing to me," Raphael sneered. "Only your actions will prove it to be true."

Alec nodded in assent, not wanting to upset the Vampire further.

"Is there anything else you could tell us that could be useful to find the missing?" Luke asked. Raphael shook his head.

"There was no trace of them. Their scents just disappeared, a dead end. No one has a clue to where they could have gone, but we've been distracted by the demon invasions. Our numbers are strong, but the demons have mutated and are giving us a run for our money. I'm about ready to uproot my coven, and move on."

"That won't be necessary," Luke answered. "At least for now. Know that we are aware of the problem with the demons, and are formulating a plan to take them out as we speak. If there is a need to run for cover, we will let you know, alright?"

Raphael studied Luke for several minutes, his eyes slitted in contemplation.

"Alright," he answered reluctantly.

Alec and Luke turned to leave the hotel, hoping that Raphael would let them go without complaint. Unfortunately, they were not that lucky.

Three large vampire males swooped in front of their path, blocking their way to the basement exit, effectively keeping them inside the lobby. Two more had approached them from the side, and five additional guards flanked Raphael's side. Luke whirled towards Raphael with a growl, his claws elongating quickly.

"Raphael," Luke growled, his body beginning to shift into wolf. "Let us pass." Alec had his hands fisted around two glowing blades, the light giving off a strange glow around the darkened room, casting shadows on the faces of the leering vampires, causing them to look more menacing, fiercer.

"Not until you answer a question for me," Raphael responded calmly, but his eyes were alive with excitement.

"What do you want to know?" Alec asked hesitantly, aware that several more vampires were stationed along the walls and in the balcony, just waiting for a sign from Raphael to attack.

"What of Simon?" Raphael asked through a wicked smile. "Tell me, does he still live?"

"Yes," Alec answered, reluctant to elaborate any further.

"And does he still bare the Mark of Cain?" Raphael smiled, and Alec felt that the vampire leader already knew the answer to that question. There was silence for several minutes, neither Alec nor Luke willing to answer his question.

"Does he?" Raphael asked again, his expression eager.

"No," Alec answered sharply. "He doesn't."

"Interesting," Raphael replied. "Tell him something for me, will you? Tell him...that Raphael says hello." The vampire smiled widely, showing that his small, needle-like fangs had protracted out of their hidden compartments, and were glistening in the faint blue light from Alec's blades. He looked menacing, and the greeting to Simon was an obvious threat of danger to come.

"No more of your threats, Vampire," Luke growled, coming closer to the thwart of vampire guards, standing directly in front of Raphael. The vampire cringed slightly at Luke's approach. "We have enough crap to deal with than your pathetic vendetta against Simon. Know that if you threaten him, then you will deal with all of us."

Raphael was silent for a second or two, then nodded at Luke.

"I will keep that in mind," he responded tightly. "Now if you will leave us to our rest, the exit is free of any blockade." He gestured toward the basement exit, and the three guards cleared the way for them to leave. Alec and Luke retreated quickly and quietly, neither one of them giving their backs to the vamps.

Once outside, Alec took a deep, calming breath. He turned to look at Luke, hoping that the volatile Were had been able to calm enough to transform back into his full human state. But Alec was surprised to see that Luke was already calm, a pensive expression on his face as if he was in deep thought.

"That was interesting," Alec mused. Luke nodded halfheartedly in agreement. "What are you thinking?" he asked, wanting to know why Luke looked like his world had just come crashing down.

"Something seems off about this," Luke said gruffly. "The missing vamps, I mean."

"Do you think Raphael was lying?" Alec asked, suspicious.

"No," Luke answered. "Not directly at least, but I think there is more to it that just a couple of missing bloodsuckers."

They turned the corner in the direction towards the substation, when they found Magnus resting idly by a lamp post, his arms crossed tightly across his chest and a look of impatience on his face.

"Took you long enough," he said sharply. "My hair was starting to wilt under this hot sun."

Alec decided to take the high road and ignore Magnus' attitude outright.

"Did you find out anything from the Warlocks?" he asked, his tone placid.

"Well," Magnus began, dusting a pile of glitter that had fallen out of his pristinely tailored Mohawk off his shoulder. "It seems that a couple of newly blessed Warlocks have gone missing. But knowing our kind, they are probably locked in some kind of magically induced orgy somewhere, and haven't come up for air yet," he laughed, but his humor died quickly when he saw the looks of shock and horror on Luke and Alec's faces.

"What?" Magnus asked, a little taken aback. "Do I have a boogie hanging, or what?" He wiped his nose quickly, trying to chase away any dripping goo when Alec broke in.

"Some Warlocks have gone missing," Alec reiterated. Magnus nodded in assent.

"I need to get back," Luke growled, taking off in a fast sprint towards home. "We need to tell the others. I have a feeling that the Greater Demon is behind this."

"Didn't Father Thomas say something about experiments with Downworlders?" Alec asked. Luke shrugged as he ran in the direction of the substation.

"Not sure," he responded. "We'll need to fill the others in. They know more about what Father Thomas' said in the Catacombs of the Cathedral."

"Magnus," Alec began. "Do you remember anything specific that could involve missing Downworlders?"

But Magnus didn't respond. His pallor had turned almost green, and his eyes had glazed over, frozen wide open.

"I'll meet you there," he said quickly, not meeting anyone's gaze, and disappeared before Alec could respond.

"That didn't sound promising," Luke growled, and both he and Alec picked up their pace back to the Institute.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I can only tell you what I know," the Seelie Queen said calmly. Clary and Jace stood before her, their parents in the background. Vixie was standing at the Queen's side, her expression calm. "Saint Thomas told all of us of his visions, but only he could interpret them correctly."

"He confided in you more than he did us, Alexan," Jocelyn replied. "Please, we need to know everything."

"Jocelyn," the Queen began. "You know the visions as well as I do. We can only make assumptions to their meaning. Saint Thomas did confide in me, but I'm afraid what he did tell me would not be helpful in this instance."

"I don't care if it's helpful or not," Clary responded. "I want to know everything. Now!"

"I understand you are under a lot of pressure, Clarissa," the Queen said soothingly. "But you have to accept that there are things that are not necessary for you to know."

"It doesn't matter any longer," Jace replied. "I'm tired of the lies. The ending is coming, I can feel it. We need to know it all. Even if we can't decipher their meaning, we need to know everything."

The Queen took a deep breath, looking pointedly at Jocelyn. After several moments, she waved her hand in the air; the room began to vacate, leaving her alone with the small grouping. Once the room was empty, the Queen gestured for them to take seats on the plush cushions in front of her. Hesitantly, the others sat before her, and the Queen began to speak.

"Saint Thomas' visions were hard even him to understand," the Queen began. "So all we can do is make assumptions about their meaning. He did tell me that if we were to misunderstand the visions, and act on our assumptions, then it could be detrimental to the outcome. Do you understand what that means?"

"It means that if we were to guess that a vision meant something in particular, and changed our chosen path accordingly and we're wrong, the outcome could be disastrous," Clary responded, her tone changing from angry and impatient, to fearfully understanding.

"Correct," the Queen agreed softly.

"Then how do we proceed?" Jace asked wearily.

"That is for you to decide," she responded. "Either you can continue down the path set before you, unaware of the visions and let things play out as they were supposed to. Or, I show you Saint Thomas' final vision, and hopefully, we interpret them as they were supposed to have been. If you make the slightest mistake in reaction to the vision, things could be set off kilter, and no one could help us back on the right path. Just one mistake alone could change everything."

Clary and Jace looked at each other, each silently asking what they should decide. Should they find out what Saint Thomas' last vision was? Or should they ignore it, try to fight the enemy blind?

Jace looked to his parents for guidance, the turmoil evident under his expression.

"This is a decision you and Clary are going to have to make, Jace," Robert said softly. "Your mother and I cannot make it for you."

"Mom," Clary said, looking at her mother's fear stricken face. "Do you know what the last vision was?" Her mother nodded reluctantly. "Do you think I'd want to know?" she asked again.

Her mother paused for several moments, a thick layer of tears pooling in her eyes. Jocelyn let out a stifled sob.

"I don't know, sweetheart," she cried. "I can't even begin to fathom what you'll do once you know. Part of me hopes you'll decide to hear it. Another part of me wants to keep it from you with every ounce of my being. I can't give you a straight answer. Besides, I think Robert is right. You and Jace have to make this decision alone."

Maryse had placed her arm around Jocelyn's shaking shoulders, trying to comfort the aching sobs that poured out of the woman's chest.

"Maybe we should wait outside," Robert suggested, looking at the Queen for guidance.

"If they are going to find out the truth," the Queen replied. "Then it would be beneficial for all parties to know, just in case. I think it would be better for you all to stay and listen."

"I want to know," Clary said suddenly, her voice firm. "I'm tired of being in the dark. If I don't know everything, I'm going to second guess every decision I make anyway. I may end up altering my path just because I'm so anxious to make a mistake. I think it's better that we know."

She looked a Jace, trying to gauge his response to her sudden declaration. A small smile turned up the corner of his mouth, and he reached to grab Clary's hand tightly in his own. Jace turned toward the Queen, nodding his assent.

"We want to know," he said firmly.

The Queen sighed, and exchanged a pointed glance with Vixie.

"Vixen," the Queen said, and Vixie immediately left her side to check that they were not being overheard. She whispered a small incantation, allowing a Ward to encase the small room; it would keep eavesdroppers from hearing information that was confidential.

"It would be better for me to show you Saint Thomas' vision," the Queen said softly. "Rather than telling you." Jocelyn gasped, shaking her head back and forth rapidly. The sobs became more hysterical in nature, and the Queen rose quickly to grab Jocelyn in a strong embrace.

"If she sees it for herself, Jocelyn, then there are fewer errors for misinterpretation," the Queen hushed in her ear. Jocelyn continued to sob.

"Please, Alexan," she cried thickly. "I can't bare her to see. It's too much...please."

"You knew this day would come," the Queen replied. "It's always been a possibility. Your daughter is strong, as is her mate. They will be able to handle the truth as it is."

Jocelyn pulled away from the Queen, looking at Clary and Jace. Jace had his arm tightly secured around Clary's shoulders, trying to calm the tears that had streamed down Clary's face at seeing her mother's torment. Clary was crying, but Jace's presence seemed to keep her secure, safe.

"They are not alone," Vixie said, suddenly rejoining the group. "I have pledged myself to protect them both. It was my vow I took long before either one of them was born, as did Magnacious. The others will be by their side as well, no matter what happens. Do not fear for the unknown, for no matter what the vision entailed, we will fight it."

Jocelyn's sobs relented for a moment or two, and she finally was steady enough to deliver a solid response.

"I know," she hiccupped. "She needs to know." She turned to her daughter, eyes filled with tears. "Clarissa," she said shakily. "Please know that no matter what you see, I love you. I will always love you, and I will be here for you."

"I love you too, Mom," Clary cried, and leaned into to Jocelyn's open arms. They hugged and cried for several moments, both whispering apologies and promises into each other's their tear soaked hair. Finally, Clary pulled away.

"I'm ready," she said, wiping the tears from under her eyes. Jace swung his arm around her, pulling her close into his side.

"Very well," the Queen said. "We need to form a circle," she instructed, and the members followed her instruction. Vixie sat next to the Queen, Jocelyn on her other side. Clary was next to her mother, Jace right by her side. Maryse and Robert filed in, making the circle complete.

"No matter what you see," the Queen warned. "Do not break the circle. It can change the vision. Stay until it is complete." Everyone nodded in agreement.

"There are things that will be shown that can be disturbing," the Queen emphasized. "However, the vision can be misleading and open for interpretation. That being said, it will be easy to automatically assume its meaning, when the reality is, the vision means something completely different. Saint Thomas was used to deciphering the hidden truths; we just have his suggestions to guide us. Do not make the mistake of concluding their meaning by yourselves. It could be detrimental."

The Queen took several calming breaths, instructing the others to follow suit. She told them to close their eyes, as a calming presence filled the room. Clary could feel a slight humming deep within her body, but she ignored it as part of her nerves. But it became louder, more violently demanding, almost as if it wanted to take her consciousness deep within herself, and Clary felt herself being pulled under. Suddenly, Clary felt like she was falling through a cloud of mist, a strange cool breeze taking her away. The images were hazy at first, only indefinable blobs of color. Soon, her vision sharpened, and the vision began to form.

_The Earth was destroyed, large holes and craters scattered throughout the globe. Several cities were encased with a magically heated fire, and several dancing pixies lined the streets, worshiping the pyre. New York was unrecognizable, the destruction vast. _

_Thousands of dead bodies littered the streets, some demon kin feeding amongst the deadened flesh, laughing. One was feeding while the body still twitched with life, the body of a small child. _

"_Don't worry," the child said serenely as a Stellar Demon gnawed on his leg. "I will save us all."_

_The child laughed then, the sound like tinkling bells. It wasn't scary, it was almost soothing._

_  
The vision quickly changed, almost as if they were being forced backward, zooming through time and space to land directly in front of the City of Glass._

_Idris was left standing, thousand of survivors residing within its walls seeking sanctuary. Men, women, and children of all species were congregated inside, hoping to find safety. Some were strangely euphoric, dancing and laughing in the streets. There were a couple of orgies taking place, right out in the open where children were playing; the adults oblivious to their presence. _

_Outside the gates, a vast army of Downworlders, Shadowhunters, and Mundanes stood waiting for battle, Simon at the helm, their leader. He looked different, somehow vastly more powerful. And Isabelle was at his side, a large, deep scar marring the left side of her face. She looked stronger as well, more imposing. Their hands were joined, the skin melting together to bind them as one entity. They moved in synchronization, mirrored each other's action perfectly. _

_Behind them stood Luke, Jocelyn, and Maryse, each part of a singular unit. Their heads belonging to a large beast, wielding a gigantic seraph blade that glowed orange instead of the typical blue. Vixie was there as well, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Beside her were three werewolves: two male, one female. They were held together by chains that looped around their thick necks. Vixie held their leashes in her fist, as if they were her pets. The wolves had their teeth barred and were drooling crimson fluid from their mouths._

_The vision changed suddenly, the images becoming indecipherable again. Colors moved and undulated, until shapes began to form once more. _

_Clary stood imprisoned on a wall, her body tired and haggard looking. She was emaciated, several deep gashes cut into her skin; a shrill baby's cry could be heard in the background. There was a tall figure standing next to her, shrouded heavily in a thick robe. _

"_It's time to drink, my slave," he said with a laugh, shoving a cup of putrid liquid into Clary's mouth. She turned her face away quickly, spitting the contents onto the floor. Her new position revealed that her long auburn hair had been cut short, almost as if it was burned off by some type explosion. The skin on her face was reddened, blistered in some areas. _

"_I will never take that from you," she growled, her voice harsh. "You can't make me carry it. I will not do it!"_

"_You will eventually, my pet," he sneered, grabbing her jaw painfully. He directed her eyes over towards the end of the rounded stone room, and her vision locked on Jace's mangled body, also chained to a wall at the opposite end. _

"_I will kill him, Clarissa," the shrouded figure warned. "I will eat his flesh as he still breaths, and I will make you taste him too."_

_Clary let out a stifled sob. _

"_No," she said softly. "Please, don't. I'll do it, I'll drink. Just let him go, please."_

_The shrouded man laughed loudly, holding the vile cup in front of Clary's face again. Instead of turning away, she drank it fully, leaving not a trace of it's contents behind. _

_The vision started to shift again, the colors becoming darker in nature. Once it started to solidify, the battle scene in front of Idris formed once again. Instead, it showed the opposite end of the battlefield. _

_Droves of demons littered the vast countryside, their number infinite. At the helm sat Clary on a white stead, her hair a vivid red, fully regrown. She was wearing a tight white, silken dress that barely covered her breasts. Her eyes were a sharp ray of light, no irises to be found. Her skin was illuminated, glowing, and her blood-red lips were shaped into an evil sneer. But the most dramatic change to her, was the large blackened wings that sprung from her back, thick and wide like that of a condor. _

"_I am the demon reincarnate," she growled, her voice not her own. The sound reverberated around the whole of Idris, so not one woman, man, or child could not ignore her words. "And I've come to take my rightful place. Lay down your arms, and we will eat you for dessert. Fight, and we will savor you over the course of a month." The horde of demons laughed at her taunt._

"_We will not give up, Beelzebub," Simon responded across the vast space that separated the two armies. "Give up Clarissa, or we will destroy you all."_

_The demons laughed in earnest, Clary chuckling evilly._

"_Clarissa is dead," she sneered. "Her soul has retreated back into the Heavens. I have killed her and all that she held dear. And I will kill you all now as well." The body of Clarissa Fairchild smiled as it held out a long spear, the top of it skewered the head of Jace Lightwood... _

* * *

**AN: So...can anyone tell me what they think now? Mwahahahahahaha! I've added some links to more outfits for the last couple chapters, cause you guys seem to like the extra stuff. Go check them out. They'll be posted on my Twitter page as well. **

**Thanks goes out to Crazy Daisy for her awesome skills, and special thanks to my beta from Sing for Me Sweet, for taking a look at this one as well. It was a big one, and I needed two eyes on it :D Neliz has started her own little fanfic, her link is on my profile. Check it out!**

**As always, Reviewers get a teaser for the next one!**

**Countdown: Five chapters left!!!**


	30. Chapter 28 Babylon

**For a refresher course pertaining to this chapter, may want to reread chapters 13-14. Thanks!**

* * *

Chapter 28 – Babylon

"NO!" Clary screamed, pulling out of the circle abruptly. She was panting hard as beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She started mumbling uncontrollably, her body shaking in fear.

"No, no, no," she muttered. "I can't...Jace...the b-b-boy...S-Simon...not pos-sible...c-c-can't happen."

"Clarissa," the Queen spoke sternly, grabbing the girl by her trembling shoulders. "Clarissa, listen to me. Wake up, dear." Alexan shook her soundly, but Clary's head just flopped back and forth like her neck was made of rubber.

"What's wrong with her?" Jace asked, wiping his palm across Clary's sweaty brow.

"She's in shock," the Queen answered. "Vixen. We need water, now!" Vixie disappeared quickly to fetch a pitcher of cool water. She returned quickly and immediately placed it in Jace's hands.

"Pour it over her head," Vixie instructed hurriedly. Jace looked at her questioningly. "It's magically enhanced to help her come out of her trance. Trust me, Jace. Just do it!"

Without a second thought, Jace did as Vixie instructed. He poured the contents of the pitcher over Clary's trembling body, completely drenching her with the cool liquid. Clary spluttered as the water coursed down her face. She coughed and shook her head slightly as if to dispel the water from her soaking wet hair.

"Clary," Jace said softly. "Are you alright." Clary looked at him blankly. She blinked once, then twice, her figure as still as a statue. She didn't respond, just stared at Jace, her expression unreadable.

"Clary?" Jocelyn asked with a shaky voice, coming to her daughter's side hesitantly. She placed her hand on Clary's knee and started to rub small, comforting circles with her thumb. Jace wrapped his arm around Clary's shoulder, offering her security. They stood like that for several moments, giving Clary the time she needed to get over her shock.

Finally, Clary moved. Her mouth opened as if she was going to speak, but nothing came out but an agonized croak; her eyes were still wide circles, resembling bottomless pits of despair. It took a moment for her to gather herself, but eventually, she managed to speak.

"Jace," Clary whispered, her voice small, almost as if she was too frightened to talk any louder. "Jace..."

"I'm here, Clary," Jace said, tightening his hold on her shoulders, a supportive gesture. "I'm here."

"Jace...dead," Clary muttered. The tone was small, almost childlike. "I killed Jace..."

"No, baby," Jace cried, tears pooling at his lids. "I'm here, Clary. I'm not dead. It wasn't real. It wasn't real..."

"I killed him...I killed him...I killed him..." she continued to mutter as she stared blankly. Jace tried to reassure her, pulling her out of whatever waking nightmare had her locked in its grasp by whispering soft words of love, but she didn't show any signs that she was lucid enough to hear him.

Inside Clary's mind, she continued to see images of Jace's dead body: his head on a spire, his limp and bleeding body on the floor, a child laughing as she cried over what she'd done...

The images were so disturbing and grotesque that a wave of nausea enveloped her. Before she could squelch the force of it, she bent down and wretched onto the floor, this morning's breakfast making a reappearance at her feet. Both Jocelyn and Jace held her as she emptied her stomach, trying to calm her has her body violently dispelled its contents.

After several more minutes, her heaves finally subsided. She found Vixie knelt down before her with a small towel and a glass of cool water. Without thinking twice about it, she took both the towel and the water, chugging the later down swiftly; she used the other to wipe her mouth of any debris. Another wave of nausea swept through her, and she closed her eyes taught against the onslaught. But behind her closed lids, the images flashed once again, and she heard herself let out a choked sob.

She could hear the others talking to her, trying to offer her reassurance, but the sounds of the laughing child and her own screams echoing inside her mind had been louder and more consuming. In that moment of torment, there was only one thing that could have pulled her back into sanity, and that was Jace.

Clary could feel his rough hand holding hers, his body so close that the heat emanating off of him felt like a warm blanket during a winter storm. The thought of him next to her – even though she was overwhelmed with sorrow and dread – offered her only a small amount of comfort, but it was just enough to pull her back to reality; back to Jace.

"Jace," she whispered, squeezing his hand fiercely. Her eyes flew open and she locked gazes with him. "I.... I can't," she stuttered, unable to formulate more words than that. In front of her, Jace's face was empathetic, concerned, and agonized. But as she watched him, his face seemed to morph into that of a dead man. His skin paled to a sickly green, and his eyes glazed over, almost taking on the appearance of fogged glass. The hallucination was so powerful that she felt herself shudder. She blinked again, trying to clear the horrible image from her mind. It worked for the moment – she saw Jace staring at her with genuine concern – but the memory of Father Thomas' horrible vision was vivid in her mind; she continued to tremble uncontrollably, despite Jace's soothing presence.

"Clary," Alexan said in a calm voice. "I know that the prophecy was hard for you to see. You have to remember that you cannot take it at face value. The vision could mean something completely diff-"

"Not at face value?" Clary screamed with a high pitched voice; her fear turning to panic in the blink of an eye. "How else am I supposed to take that? Jace was dead! His head was on....And I was....Oh, by the Angel, no!" Clary broke down, the sobs pouring from her heaving chest. Jace wrapped his arms fully around her, holding her as tightly as he possibly could without restricting her body the ability to breathe.

"I can't do this, Jace," she cried hysterically. "I can't!"

"Baby," Jace said, combing his hand through the loose strands of hair that had fallen from Clary's wet ponytail. "It's alright. It's okay."

"No, it's not," she sobbed. "I can't imagine my life without you. And to think that you could die, it makes me sick."

"You won't ever kill me, Clary. You couldn't."

"And you know what the really sick part is?" she continued as if Jace hadn't spoken. "If someone were to have you in front of me, and told me that they were going to kill you if I didn't do what they wanted, I would comply. I wouldn't even think about it; I'd do anything they wanted to save you. Do you understand that? The vision shows it to be true and I know deep down, I would choose your life over everything else, even if it meant me becoming some sort of Demon Witch; even if it meant the end of the world!"

"Don't say that," Jace growled, pulling her away from his chest so that he could stare her directly into her tear soaked eyes. "Never say something like that. No one would ever be able to capture me, or you, not while I'm breathing. Do you understand me, Clarissa?" Jace hardly ever used her full name, only when he was very passionate about something, whether that be in the bedroom or through his anger, and it made Clary take notice. They stared at each other for a small moment, both silently communicating to each other. He offered her love and comfort, while she dumped her fear and self-loathing onto him.

"Clary," her mother said. "You have to remember that the visions are _subjective_, and cannot be taken at face value. Maybe that part about Jace's life being threatened was a warning about that very thing. I think you have to prepare yourself to make hard choices, and not just about Jace's life, but about all of whom you hold dear."

"That doesn't make me feel any better, Mom," Clary cried, wiping the falling tears from her eyes in earnest. "I would have just as much difficulty if it was you or Luke chained to that wall."

"Clary, I can't begin to empathize to what you are feeling," the Queen cut in. "But you are strong. Just the fact that you didn't go completely crazy after seeing that vision proves your merits. Now," she said, rising from her seat on the cushion in front of Clary and walking to stand a little further away. "I feel that perhaps this is not the best time to try and decipher the vision's meaning. I suggest that we sleep on it, maybe reconvene next week to discuss it."

Jace shot up from his seat, his eyes blazing.

"I am not going to force Clary to wait a week to find answers," he growled. "She's been through enough and I won't let her live in the dark any longer with that nightmare plaguing her waking dreams."

"He's right," Maryse said and her voice was thick with emotion. It was the first time she'd spoken since the vision had ended, and Jace could see the worry on her face as her hands trembled slightly. "They need to know; we all do. I just saw my son..." she shuddered, unable to continue. "If we cannot take that vision at face value, then perhaps you can help guide us to interpret it."

"I agree," Jocelyn answered. She rose and walked to the Seelie Queen, her expression firm. "This was the first time that I'd actually seen a raw prophecy; I'd always heard about a vision after it was interpreted by Saint Thomas. But you were with him during his contemplation period; no one else has the insight to help us decipher it, now that the Oracle has died. You helped Saint Thomas decipher them, and he only shared the visions through the mind link with you, no one else."

"Mind link?" Maryse asked, confused.

"That is how Alexan was able to see Father's visions," Jocelyn clarified. "He'd opened up his mind to her so that they could visualize the prophecies together. She was able to replay it for us because he had trusted her with that knowledge. When they had forged an alliance all those years ago, and Father Thomas knew he could trust her completely, he'd allowed her to see the visions in order for them to decipher their meaning accurately. Father Thomas had Heaven's graces to help guide him to their meaning, and Alexan had her knowledge of the Shadow World. Together, they were hardly ever wrong."

"Yes, and now we don't have the Saint's Heavenly guidance," Alexan spat, her tone sharp. "So, how do you suggest we do this without causing more harm than good? You know the consequences if we are wrong, Jocelyn."

"I thought Saint Thomas said his visions were precise and easy to understand," Jace stated.

"His earlier ones were," Jocelyn clarified. "But as they became more complex, he had a harder time searching for their meaning. Remember when he spoke of the vision of Simon? He'd said that it was unclear, that he saw Simon going back in time, but becoming younger. He didn't understand the meaning of it until he saw Simon in person."

"So, how do we know that the vision of Clary and I is even true?" Jace argued quickly. "What if we aren't destined to fight in this war? Perhaps he interpreted it wrong, since his visions were so subjective."

"He didn't have a vision of you two," Jocelyn replied. "He told you himself that the Angel Ithuriel came to him and told him of your planned existence. Saint Thomas was both a prophet and a conduit; the Angles used him in two ways. Besides, do you know any other two beings on this world that are both Nephilium, but have Angel's blood in their veins?"

Clary sat silently as she listened to the rest of the group argue. She felt numb, but yet, hopeful in a strange way. The vision was horrible, but somewhere deep inside her, she knew that shouldn't take it as gospel. There were hidden messages inside the images of pain and destruction, but she couldn't even begin to weed them out, not with the endless bickering going on around her.

She put her fingertips to her temples, and began to make small, circling motions. Her eyes were shut tightly, and she began to take several smoothing, calming deep breaths. There was something that she felt she was missing in all of this, and it bugged her that she couldn't figure out what it was. It had something to do with what Father Thomas had said that day in the catacombs.

Father Thomas had led them to the tunnels that were hidden deep beneath the old cathedral. He had told them that he was a prophet and had been expecting their visit for many years. While his earlier visions were simple enough to be mistaken for vivid dreams - which where in fact prophecies sent by the Angels – he had eventually developed the ability to speak with the Citizens of Heaven as well. He went on to explain how his visions had evolved into chaotic images that he'd have to spend hours in meditation to decipher; many of these were about the Angel Children and the final battle for Earth. When he had told them of how the Angel Ithuriel described his future angel-blooded children, she had been amazed; hearing him describe both her and Jace made her feel simultaneously frightened and fascinated, all in equal measure. She replayed the conversation in her mind.

"_The girl was to be kind, tender, devoted and compassionate. Her gifts were not only in combat, but she was to be a mediator between Heaven and Earth. And she would speak the language of the Angels..."_

Saint Thomas had explained that the Angels description of her confirmed Clary could use the runes that came to her through visions – or in immediate circumstances of heightened senses – in times of great need. She had found throughout the last two years that the runes she applied were vastly more potent, and that she could create new runes that were even more powerful. But now that she thought more about it, she wasn't _creating_ runes, she was _translating_; she was blessed with an understanding of Heaven's language. And if the runes themselves represented a full dialect, then it would stand to reason that there would be a rune for every word in the English language.

An idea formed in Clary's mind, and she stood from her chair abruptly. Jace whirled to look at her worriedly and he held out his hand to offer her comfort, thinking she was distraught once again.

"Clary, are you alri-"

"Do you have your stele?" she asked abruptly, cutting off Jace's question. He quirked one eyebrow and looked at her questioningly. Without a word, he pulled his stele out of his back pocket and placed it in her outstretched hand.

"I have an idea," she said, addressing the group at large. All of them were staring at her with mixed expressions of shock and confusion. Except for the Queen; she looked strangely satisfied, almost as if she was waiting for Clary to come to the conclusion she had. She knew the Seelie Queen was a smart woman, but did she already know that Clary would be able to find the answer to their problem? If so, why hadn't she said anything? They both exchanged a loaded glance, and Clary felt in that moment that her assumption about the Queen – knowing that this idea would spark in her mind all along – was correct.

No matter the case, she brushed that thought aside and focused on the task at hand.

"I think we need to see the vision again," she said tentatively. Jace made a motion to argue, but Clary held her hand up to stay his retort. "I have an idea. Trust me, please." Everyone was silently waiting for her to continue. Clary took a deep breath, and explained her thought process.

"Father Thomas said that Ithuriel told him that I would speak the _language _of Heaven. It's an accepted fact among the Shadowhunters that the Book of Grey contains runes that were assumed to be gifted from the Angels. I think we can all agree that the runes are the language of the Angels, and with the knowledge that I can form unknown runes if I concentrate hard enough, I think I can find the rune we need to help us decipher the vision's hidden truths."

"Clary," her mother said softly. "Are you sure it works like that?" Clary nodded her head but her mother remained unconvinced. "You can just imagine a word, and the rune comes to your mind?"

"Sometimes; for the most part they just come to me, especially if I'm overly stressed or in need of a specific rune."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Maryse asked, her voice mirroring Jocelyn look of hesitancy.

"It's worked before," Jace argued. "In more ways than one..." he trailed off suggestively. He gave Clary his signature sly smirk, and she felt herself blush in response. Despite the fact that three of their parents were in the room, she couldn't stop the images of their love making under the Pleasure rune from flashing into her mind. How ever brief the momentary trip down memory lane was, she could feel the heat creep up her arms, down her torso, and settle low in her abdomen.

"But look what happened last time," Maryse argued, seeming to have not heard Jace's comment. Either that or she really was good at avoidance. "When you placed Absolution on Simon, he completely transformed into a whole other being; a different race. We can't be sure that something just as extreme will happen again."

"But that was the combination of two runes acting together to negate another, the Mark of Cain," Clary argued. "It was powerful because of what the Mark of Cain represented."

"And what was that?" Vixie asked. Clary sighed as she began to explain what she'd learned about the ancient rune that God had placed on Cain for murdering his brother, Abel. It was the same biblical story that the Angel Ithuriel – using Father Thomas as a medium – described the original intent for the race of vampires, aka the Veritas Lamina.

"When God placed the mark on Cain, he banished him to walk the Earth alone for all eternity. The mark was supposed to show the world what he was and what he'd done. If anyone were to try and kill Cain, they would be punished severely. So, when I put the rune on Simon to save him from Raphael, he'd taken on that burden; Cain's burden. Absolution took that all away, transforming him back into what the vampire race should have been."

"How can you guarantee that another rune would be just as powerful?" Maryse asked with concern in her voice. "I still don't think it's a good idea, Clary."

"Look at the other runes Clary's created," Jace argued. "Alliance helped us win the war with Valentine. It was a powerful rune, yes, but it wasn't permanent and it wasn't harmful."

"That's still not a guarantee," Maryse argued. "I don't like the idea of Clary thinking of some random word, then using said word as a translated rune."

"It's not just the word that I concentrate on," Clary explained. "I think of the _feeling_ of the word I want as well.

"I don't understand," Maryse said with confusion plain on her face. "The _feeling_ of a word?"

"It's the meaning of the rune," Clary explained, trying hard not to become aggravated that she couldn't seem to get her point across. She knew that she was on the right path to finding a solution, she just hated that some of them didn't seem to trust her enough to do it her own way, and to not make a complete mess out of the situation. She could only hope that once she'd put her best efforts into explaining how she felt when translating a word into a rune, her mother and Maryse would allow her to experiment with her hypothesis.

"Alliance was powerful because of what it meant," Clary began. "All of language – even the dialect of the Angles – has a certain meaning or definition. Alliance meant that we could form a temporary bond that strengthened both Shadowhunter and Downworlder, sharing our unique abilities with one another. Key word there is _temporary_. Alliances can be forged in the blink of an eye, and then vanish just as quickly. An alliance is not a solid commitment, only a temporary accord in which two parties cooperate with each other for a specific purpose. Using that definition, can you see how the Alliance worked the way it did?"

"I can see your point," Maryse said tentatively. "But explain how the Absolution rune worked then."

"Absolution is infinite," Clary said. "To be absolved from something means that you are completely absent of it; not temporary, but absolute. Do you see the difference?"

"And when Simon had the Mark of Cain on his head," Vixie said, trying to piece it all together. "He had to carry Cain's burden that God had placed upon him."

"Yes," Clary nodded. "When I placed Absolution on him, he was absolved from that burden, and he transformed into the original intent of the vampire, completely free from an ancient murder sentence."

"And what of the Love rune you used in the Cathedral?" Jocelyn asked. "How did that work?"

Clary thought for a minute, trying to pull herself back into the mindset that she was in during that time she'd discovered the Love rune. Jace had been dying on the floor, injured from the force of the spell Katia had placed on the foyer doors in order to trap them, and the cathedral walls were crumbling down around her. She'd felt angry and afraid. It was only when Jace had grabbed her hand and told her that he loved her that she began to feel different. The love Jace felt for her seemed to flow from him, into her very cells, charging them into excitement. It was powerful and all consuming.

"Love is strong enough to break through any bonds," she replied softly, looking at Jace with all the devotion and adoration she felt for him. "Love transcends through life and even death, no matter what the obstacle. It's even powerful enough to break the most powerful spell, woven together from hate. That's the difference." Jace smiled at her warmly, placing his hand in hers.

The effect of each rune is dependent on its definition," Maryse reiterated, and Clary nodded to confirm.

"So, that being said, I think I can find a rune that would help us understand the vision better," Clary replied. "If we could find one that would work well enough, we'd decrease the risk of interpreting it wrong significantly."

"What rune are you suggesting?" Robert asked, speaking for the first time. He had sat quietly after the vision had completed, not really moving or speaking. "Like you said, it's going to be important to choose which word to translate based on its meaning."

Clary thought for a moment. Several words came to mind: explanation, clarification, definition. Those words seemed to be momentary, temporary. For example, she could ask for clarification on something she didn't know, and she'd probably be able to decipher the answer for that specific quandary. She assumed it would be enough for what she needed, so she made the suggestion.

"How about, Clarification?" As she asked, a sharp bright light flashed behind her eyes, and she could she a defined image of a rune in her mind.

"It sounds good," Robert replied. "But I don't know if it's enough. Clarification seems two narrowed, and for something as complex as that vision, we'd need a rune more thorough than that."

"What about Explanation," Jace offered, but Robert shot that one down for the same reasoning. Several more people offered words, but none of them seemed to fit their needs. Clary could tell Jace was getting frustrated and it bothered her that the answer wasn't coming to her quick enough. With the other runes, they seemed to come to her faster and easier. And when they did appear to her, she knew instinctively they were correct. So far, nothing was jumping out at her. Every word they suggested seemed off somehow.

"Knowledge?" Jocelyn offered and her eyebrows rose in question.

"Too dangerous," the Seelie Queen answered. "Knowledge is something that lasts forever, not temporary. I think it's safe to assume that a word like that would be more permanent than the others, and I don't like the idea of using something as long-lasting when we're not sure what the ramifications might be." Jocelyn nodded in agreement.

"Understanding," Clary said softly, and the image came to her just as quickly as all the others had. She sat on the ground, and drew the image onto the plush carpet below. The rug was made of thick threads that turned a darker shade as she manipulated the strings into the shape she'd seen in her mind. When she was done, she looked at it. Seeing it reflected back on her, she could feel inside her bones that this was the rune they were looking for.

"This is it," she said happily, a genuine smile curving her lips. "This is the one, I know it."

"How do you know, Clary?" her mother asked her. Clary shrugged.

"I just do," she tried to explain. "I don't know how it works; it just always comes to me like this."

"What do you mean?" Robert asked her, coming to stand behind her so that he could look at her rune from over her shoulder.

"It's like with the other ones," Clary explained. "When we were trying to find a way for Simon to come into the Institute, the images of Sanctuary and Repentance came to me through Alec and Isabelle's suggestions. And when I looked at them, I knew they were what I needed to form the rune of Absolution. It was more than just a feeling, it was like...intuition. I know this rune of Understanding is what we need."

"Okay," Jace said, effectively ending the discussion by shooting everyone a firm gaze that said 'don't argue with my woman'. "So, how does it work?"

"Well, I think if I put the rune in the middle of the circle, and we all form around it, we should be able to make sense out of the vision," she answered.

"You want to replay the vision again?" Jocelyn asked in a slightly panicked tone. She didn't like the idea of Clary having to watch that horror flick again, and she wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of being subjected to it herself.

"No," Robert answered, his face contemplative. "I don't think it will work like that. If she placed the rune for knowledge on her skin and relived the vision, perhaps it would work. With knowledge, she'd be able to decipher the hidden meanings based on her intellect. But we've already agreed that knowledge by definition is too infinite to play with. Think about the definition of Understanding; it is a mental process that one undergoes to _gain_ knowledge. With that in mind, I think to achieve understanding; we need to talk about the vision. A thorough brainstorming should be good enough, and with Clary's rune, we will be able to decipher the meaning through our discussion of it."

"I like the sound of that much better," Jace agreed. When Clary looked like she wanted to argue, Jace continued. "I don't like the idea of you reliving that, especially seeing how you reacted to it the first time around."

After seeing the sincerity behind Jace's eyes, Clary reluctantly agreed.

"Where do we begin?" Jocelyn asked as she took her seat in the circle; the others followed her example and took their seats as well.

"We'll start at the beginning," the Queen answered, looking at each of them in turn. "I have the vision in its entirety in my mind. If we get stuck on some detail, I can lead us in the right direction, agreed?" Everyone nodded.

Clary felt infinitely better about the whole situation. The thought of her having to relive the vision was hard for her to stomach, but at the time, she couldn't think of any way around it. Talking about it with people she was coming to trust? That she could deal with. She took Jace's stele in her hand and with an unsure glance at the Seelie Queen, traced the rune of Understanding onto the carpet in the middle of their circle. The bitter smell of burning hair enveloped them, causing her nose to scrunch up in response; Clary briefly wondered exactly what kind of animal fur made up the woven threads beneath her.

"Now," the Seelie Queen said once Clary had completed the application. "Let us discuss the vision."

"Okay," Jace began slowly, looking hesitantly at Clary to judge if she was stable enough to go through with the rehashing. After all, she'd completely freaked out the last time. Clary gave him a reassuring smile, so Jace tentatively continued.

"The beginning of the vision showed the world in destruction," he said. "New York was in ruin, and the streets were covered with dancing pixies."

"I don't think they were dancing," Jocelyn replied. "To me, it seemed like they were in a trance of some sort. Did you see their faces? It looked like they weren't in their right minds or something."

"Did any of you hear what they were saying?" Vixie asked. Everyone looked at her dumbfounded.

"I didn't hear anything," Maryse answered.

"Neither did I," Clary agreed. "Only the crackling of the fire."

"That crackling wasn't the fire, dear," the Queen said softly. "That was the language of the Fey."

"The Fey?" Jace asked.

"Yes," Vixie answered. "The language is made up of sharp hisses and clicks. They were whispering a chant."

"What were they saying?" Clary asked.

"'He is here'," the Queen answered. "'The father has returned'."

"Father?" Maryse asked. "Who's the father? Why would they be chanting that in the middle of chaos?"

"Beelzebub," Jocelyn gasped. "He's the father of the Fey."

"Yes," Clary said, her eyes bright with understanding. "Father Thomas told us as much in the catacombs that day. He'd speculated that the Greater Demon could be behind the plot to capture me after the Saint had been possessed by him. It would make sense for him to be the one behind the world's destruction in the vision, especially if he has anything to do the prophecies Father Thomas spoke of."

"So, he wants the world destroyed?" Robert asked Clary, his expression expectant.

"I don't know," Clary answered. "I don't think he wants it destroyed."

"You," Jace turned to the Queen with an accusatory expression. "You're his descendant. What does he want?"

"Jace," Clary chided. "You need to stay calm. Don't go blaming anyone in this room for things that are not in their control. She can't be held responsible for some demon's actions simply because of her ancestry. Please, let's just stick to interpreting this damned vision. I want to go home."

Jace nodded and turned to give the Queen a suspecting look.

"So, we know for sure who is behind the plot against the world," the Queen stated, ignoring Jace's outburst and resulting glare outright. "We just don't know why or how."

"What about the demons in the streets?" Robert asked. "What do they represent?"

"We've been fighting a new breed of demon for the last couple months," Jace replied. "They are faster and stronger than they have been in the past. And each time we were ambushed by these supped up demons, they've been after Clary. Looking back at it now, I think the two things are linked. Perhaps the demons in the vision are the super demons we've been fighting. Maybe Beelzebub is behind their new powers."

"I think it's safe to assume that Beelzebub is behind everything that is linked to the vision," Clary said quickly. "Including the super demons. I think its logical reasoning to assume that his horde of demons were the ones in the vision."

Jace grimaced, remembering a specific dream that had been plaguing his dreams for the past decade or so. Many of them involved thousands of demons infiltrating the Earth realm, but one in particular featured the demons feasting off the carcasses of their victims, chanting in the streets of the victory over their enemies, the Nephilium. When Jace saw a similar image in the vision only moments ago, he'd felt sick. It was like one of his dreams being relived, even more vividly and real than before.

"Did you notice what the demons were eating?" Robert asked and his face scrunched up in disgust.

"People," Maryse replied with a blank expression.

"Not just people," Clary replied. "Downworlders."

"They were all Downworlders," Robert replied, nodding his head in agreement.

"Except the child," Vixie said. "He wasn't a Downworlder. He was Nephilium."

"So, the Nephilium will save the world?" Jace asked skeptically, one eyebrow quirked.

"That's not what the child said," Clary responded. "He said 'I will save us all'. _I,_ not _we_. I think it was talking about a specific person."

"Who?" Maryse asked, looking between Clary and Jace. Neither of them had an answer, but they both exchanged guarded glances.

"I'm afraid we may not know that answer until the time comes for him to appear," the Queen said.

"The Oracle never spoke of another child?" Maryse asked and her expression was hopeful as she looked from the Queen, to Jocelyn, to finally Vixie. She'd love nothing more than to believe her son, Jace, could be spared for the weight of the world being resting on his already overburdened shoulders but somehow, she knew that he was a part of the answer, if not the child the vision spoke of himself. The thought of that terrified her, but she kept her expression as calm as she could.

"No," Vixie answered. "I don't know of any mention of a child, beside the Angel Children."

"Perhaps the answer is in the rest of the vision," Clary said, trying to keep the discussion back on topic. She could feel herself draining; it had been a terribly exhausting day and she'd like nothing more than to take a hot shower and curl up with Jace in her bed.

"I remember the scene at Idris next," Robert said. "The streets were chaotic, though; nothing resembling the City of Glass."

"What?" Vixie asked in mock astonishment. "You mean you don't have orgies in the middle of the streets? Damn, and there go my vacation plans."

Jace laughed at the look of embarrassment on Robert's face and Clary smiled at his reaction. It felt good to hear Jace laugh, despite all the crap they were dealing with at the moment. No matter how shitty things seemed to be, watching Jace's smile spread across his face could change her attitude in seconds.

"Well, no we don't have...um..." Robert stammered.

"Orgies," Vixie supplied, causing Robert's blush to deepen.

"Yes," he replied. "The city is nothing like that. And up until recently, we didn't allow anything but Shadowhunters beneath the Wards, but the city in the vision had people of all races, including Mundanes."

"Perhaps the city will be the last one standing," Maryse added. "Maybe people flock to it in the end, because it's the last place to offer sanctuary."

"The final battle happens at Idris," Clary said surely. "That I am most certain of, but the rest of it I'm foggy about. There was a reason why we saw the orgies and people dancing amongst the chaos; I just can't find the point of it."

"What do the orgies remind you of?" the Queen asked.

"A good time," Vixie answered with a half smile. The Queen ignored her.

"In most of society, I would think it'd be in bad taste have gratuitous sex with multiple partners in public; in front of children would be even worse," Robert answered.

"Yes," the Queen nodded. "So, that being said, what does it remind you of?"

Clary thought for a moment. There was something coming to the forefront of her mind, but she couldn't make sense of it. What did the vision of the city remind her of? Honestly, it reminded her of sin. Wouldn't it be the ultimate sin to defile something as pure and genuine as a child with lewd and insidious acts? Yes, it would. A city that had its citizens acting so poorly would surely...

"Babylon," Clary answered, a sudden realization coming to her. "It's Babylon."

"What?" Jocelyn asked, but Clary ignored her, turning to look at the Queen full on.

"It is, isn't it?" she asked the Queen. "The city represents Babylon." The Queen didn't answer, so Clary continued with her thought process. "Remember when Father Thomas showed us an old scroll that depicted the city? He'd said that was where Beelzebub tried to take over the world the first time."

"Yes," the Queen nodded. "He tried to infiltrate the city from within, whispering lies into the ears of the humans, causing them to break their accord with Heaven. It's a well-known legend among the Fey, although we try to keep the identity of our maker a secret."

"In the bible, it said something about God destroying Babylon because of their sins," Maryse added. "The city was rampant with it, the people worshiping idols and committing adultery with who ever they wanted. The tower they'd built was the proverbial straw that broke the camels back and God destroyed them."

"Perhaps the people were sinning because Beelzebub was pulling their strings," Robert mused. "Causing them to loose their good graces with Heaven."

"That would explain the orgy scene in front of the kiddies," Vixie said with a smirk. "So, the city represented Babylon. But what does that mean then? What's the significance?"

"Somehow I don't see our city going under the same trickery that Beelzebub used on the citizens of Babylon," Maryse mused.

"They may already have," Robert said suddenly, his expression tight. "Just a different form of it."

"What do you mean?" Maryse asked sternly.

"Think about it," Robert said. "The mysterious assassinations at the Council, the Clave embarrassed and clueless to the answers. Members are fighting amongst themselves; Shadowhunters of all ages are taking sides. The city is in chaos. What if it is the work of Beelzebub? What if he is working to uproar the citizens as we speak, just using some other means?"

"I don't know," Jocelyn said timidly. "It doesn't make sense. Why would he want the Councilmen murdered?"

"Distraction," Robert offered. "Perhaps to loosen our newly founded bonds with the Downworlders, I don't know. It's definitely something to think about." Maryse and Jocelyn nodded in agreement, their gazes downcast as they contemplated Robert's hypothesis.

"So, what do we know so far," Vixie asked, attempting to pull everyone back onto topic. Clary looked at her with a grateful expression; the thought of Beelzebub having already worked his way into the Clave was a very unsettling thought, and Clary didn't think she could take any more besides deciphering the vision for now. That in and of itself would be taxing for her already frazzled nerves.

"We know that the vision depicted the world burning, Beelzebub being the cause. We know that he wants to overtake Idris, because in the vision, the city was similar to that of the ancient city he'd coveted," Jocelyn outlined. Having her mother reiterate everything out loud like that made Clary's foresight clear, and she gasped at a sudden realization. She turned to the Queen sharply.

"Does the legend ever say _where_ Babylon was?" she asked the faerie, her tone demanding.

"I don't think so," the Queen answered. "But Saint Thomas knew the stories better than I did. He lived by the stories of old."

"According to old scholars," Robert interjected. "I believe Babylon was located near the Euphrates River, close to Iraq."

"That was the city of Seleucia," Vixie corrected kindly. "It's often mistaken for the legendary Babylon, but the true location of the city in the biblical stories has never truly been located."

"It's Idris," Clary gasped.

"What?" Jace asked, shocked.

"Idris," she said in an excited tone She had a strong feeling that she was on to something huge, and she wanted Jace to believe her. "It's Babylon, I'd bet you anything. That's why no scholar was able to find it. The City of Glass was built right over it."

"Are you sure, Clary?" Maryse asked, her tone unconvinced. "I don't think-"

"It fits," Clary interrupted quickly, wanting to get her logic across so that the others could see what she did. "It fits everything, even the end of the vision." Maryse made a motion to add a comment, but Clary continued before she had a chance.

"Listen; at the end of the vision when I..." she gulped, "I mean, the Demon Witch-thingy, said that it had come to take its rightful place. It'd come to take over Babylon, just like Beelzebub had tried thousands of years ago."

"That makes sense," Vixie agreed.

"I think it might be coincidental, Clary. It's hard for me to believe that the Nephilium would rebuild a city that had once been the object of some a Greater Demon's obsession," Robert mused. "It was also the place where our accord with Heaven was broken. It doesn't seem like something our forefather's would have done."

"Unless the land itself has some type of magical properties," Clary hypothesized, her expression intently concentrated on her line of thinking. "What if there is something about that land that Beelzebub wanted, even back in Babylonian times? What if it's the thing that attracted the Nephilium to the land in the first place?"

"I'm not following," Robert said pointedly.

"Let's say that there was something about the land that was special," Clary mused. "Something that Beelzebub wanted and couldn't get unless he overtook the land. It would explain why he's plotting to overtake the same place once again."

"That theory would work if you could be sure that the City of Glass and the legendary city of Babylon are one in the same," Maryse stated.

"They are," Clary said firmly. "I can feel it to be true. Is there an explanation as to why Idris cannot be found on a map, and only can be entered if the seeker knows exactly where it is?"

"No," Robert explained, his face quirked in quandary. "It has always been assumed the land was enchanted by the Angels to keep our capital safe for outsiders."

"It is magical," Clary proclaimed. "I'm right, I can feel it!"

"So, Idris is Babylon and this whole mess is because Beelzebub wants to take it over?" Vixie asked in an incredulous tone.

"That's what makes me think there's more to it than him just taking over a city," Clary answered. "If he wanted something hidden inside the land itself, then it would explain why he'd go to such lengths to make sure it was his. Didn't Father Thomas say something about the Angels living with the humans in Babylon back then?"

"He did," Jace confirmed, remembering the conversation back in the catacombs. Father Thomas had told them the legends of Babylon, how the humans and Angels lived in harmony, both giving and taking from each other equally.

"What if the Angels were here because they were guarding something?" Clary theorized. "I think that's why they were here, why they chose Babylon to reside. It could also explain why the Nephilium decided to make their capital on the same land. Maybe the Angels stationed them there as guards as well."

"There is nothing mentioned in Nephilium history about the land having any magical properties that I remember," Robert mused. "But I'm sure that a secret that big wouldn't have been passed down the generations. It could be possible."

"And it would also explain why the Angel Ithuriel would sacrifice himself to torture, so that you two could have part of his blood," Jocelyn reasoned. "If the Angels knew that the demon was after whatever they guarded in Babylonian times, they'd want some good fighters to help defend it now."

"How does Simon play into all of this?" Vixie asked. "The vision showed him at the head of the army outside of Idris."

"Saint Thomas has always said that Simon would be important in future events," Jocelyn stated, a firm look on her face. "Even when he didn't know who Simon was. The vision of his background wasn't the only one he'd had of Simon. Neither was the one you saw today. In fact, most of the visions Saint Thomas had of future events involving the Angel Children involved Simon somehow."

"I believe it just signifies how much Clary's interpretation of Heaven's language is correct," the Queen offered. "She was meant to discover the rune of Absolution, just as she was meant to place it on her vampire friend."

The Queen turned to Clary, looking deeply into her eyes. For the first time, Clary didn't see the meddling, over zealous Fey woman she'd once thought the Seelie Queen to be. When the faerie woman looked into her eyes, she saw nothing but wisdom, kindness, and pride directed at Clary. Perhaps all those times she'd assume the Queen to be a treacherous snake weren't what they seemed. Maybe the Queen was putting on a rouse, a cover for who she really was. Perhaps Alexan felt that a strong reputation for being deceitfully cunning would keep her safe from Beelzebub's ever probing eye.

"Trust your instincts, Clarissa Fairchild," the Queen said in a sincere and earnest tone. "Trust your heart. It seems to have never let you down when needed."

"I will," Clary said. "I do."

"I do too," Jace said firmly. "And I think you're right. There is something about Idris that Beelzebub wants. But, how do we find out what that is?"

"We don't," Robert stated. "At least, not right now. We need to finish the rest of the vision. Perhaps more clues lie inside."

Everyone nodded in agreement. They spent the next several minutes going over the rest of the battlefield seen, the one with Simon at the forefront. They discussed the beast with the three heads of Jocelyn, Maryse, and Luke. No one could offer any suggestion for it, and the best Clary could decipher was that they'd be important to the ending battle. They discussed Vixie's appearance with the three werewolves, but again, no one could come to a definitive conclusion.

"Perhaps we will be able to gain perspective on those images as time moves on," the Queen had said, effectively ending their long discussion on possible explanations to those particular images. Unfortunately, it meant they'd have to decipher the part of the vision that Clary dreaded to revisit.

"The dungeon," Jace began, grasping Clary's hand tightly in his, giving her the little bit of support she'd need to get through the next bit of the vision. "Clary was chained to a wall, looking horribly fragile. I can't begin to think of an explanation for that one."

"Okay," the Queen began. She'd decided to take control of this last bit of the vision. She could pull herself out of it, distance herself from it and offer a non-biased opinion. She wasn't affected by it like the other adults had been; it was their children that they'd seen being tortured and murdered in the vision. Knowing this, the Queen began to lead the discussion.

"Let's take the image of a person chained to the wall and dissect it from there. We'll just remove Clary from it all together so that we can look at it objectively, alright?"

"I think of vulnerability," Jocelyn offered, her voice only slightly shaky. "And I think of despair, helplessness."

"Good," the Queen commended. "Anyone else?"

"Maybe it shows what Beelzebub is planning," Maryse offered. "Maybe he wants to capture her. Didn't Father Thomas say something to that effect?"

"He did," Jace replied. "But he was being possessed at that time, by Beelzebub no less. We can't really take anything that he said at face value."

"Unless he was warning you," Robert stated with a shrug. "Maybe he wanted you to know he was coming for her."

"Why would he want us to know?" Vixie asked. "It would seem kinda stupid to tell us his dastardly plans, wouldn't it?"

"It doesn't matter why," Clary said. "It just matters that he did. And I don't think he was lying. I think he wants me for some reason. It fits with the demons attacking us for the sole purpose of obtaining me, and if the Beelzebub is behind the supped up demons as the vision implies, than I think its confirmation that he was telling the truth. I just hope that he doesn't want me for the reasons he implied during Saint Thomas' possession."

"Using you to repopulate the world?" Vixie asked for clarification; Clary nodded her head.

"Father Thomas had also said something about using Downworlders for experiments when he was possessed," Jocelyn said. "How do you think that fits in?"

"The blood," Clary said with that same sudden sense of clarity. "The blood that the dark figure forced upon me. It had something to do with it, I know it."

"How do you know it was blood?" Maryse asked. "I don't remember seeing what was inside of it."

"Because, I could taste it," Clary answered with a disgusted look on her face.

"You could taste it? How?" Jocelyn asked.

"I don't know," Clary replied. "In the vision, when the image of me started to drink from the cup, I had the rusty, bitter taste of blood inside my mouth."

"Perhaps you have more foresight that we'd assumed," the Queen mused. Clary just shrugged noncommittally in response.

"What about the baby crying?" Vixie asked, looking at Clary for the answer.

"I think that just solidifies what the demon plans to do with me," Clary stated blankly. "He wants to impregnate me somehow with his yucky demon babies."

"I don't think so," Jace growled. "That will never happen."

"So that explains Jace being there," Vixie said, but Clary looked at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she asked, a strange feeling of fear creeping up her spine.

"I mean that the demon threatens Jace so that you'll comply," Vixie said. "Isn't that what the vision means?"

"No," Clary said brusquely, but deep inside her, she knew it to be true.

"What else could Jace being locked away and threatened mean?" Vixie asked.

"I don't know," Clary said gruffly. "Maybe it means the demon also wants to use him in some way."

"That doesn't make sense," Vixie argued. "He can't have little demon spawn. I don't think tha-"

"Vixie," Jace interrupted. "Let's just move on. It's not important, alright?" Vixie went to argue, but Jace shot her a pointed look. He didn't want to discuss it any further. Clary knew that Jace could tell she was at her breaking point. She was sure that he would know that she wasn't being honest with the visions meaning. The demon would threaten to destroy all Clary held dear, including Jace, to get what he wanted. And that thought terrified Clary because she knew that she'd do anything to keep her family safe. But most of all, she'd die to save Jace. She knew it, Jace knew it, and so did Beelzebub it seemed.

"The final battle scene, I think, is the most significant," the Queen stated, moving the conversation along as best she could.

"How's that?" Robert asked.

"Well, it showed Clary at the head of the battlefield, but it wasn't really her."

"No," Jace growled, his temper flaring as he relived seeing Clary possessed. "It was that demon shit taking over Clary's body."

"Yes," the Queen agreed. "But I don't think that Beelzebub could ever do that. Vixen told me of your visit to Father Thomas. Is it true you invoked the Angel after Father Thomas had been possessed by the demon?" Jace nodded in confirmation. "And what did the Oracle tell you before you tried it?"

"He said that the demon couldn't possess me," Jace replied hurriedly, a look of relief on his face as he remembered the conversation. "Because of the Angel blood, the demon couldn't take me over."

"That's right," the Queen said. "So, it stands to reason that Clary wouldn't be able to be overtaken either. I think that image of Clary depicts that she is the instrument Beelzebub uses to conquer Idris."

"And Jace's head on a stick?" Vixie asked bluntly, not bothering to be contrite for Clary's sake.

No one offered any answers and the room became deathly quiet for several moments.

"Perhaps it was a warning to Clarissa," the Queen offered.

"What do you mean?" Clary asked, her eyes reddened by the salty tears she was trying to hold back.

"Maybe the vision was trying to tell you that you have to be prepared to make sacrifices," the Queen said softly.

"If my sacrifice is Jace, then there is no question. He comes first, period," Clary said firmly, a tear escaping its perch on her lower lid, sliding down her cheek and landing on her trembling hand.

"You can't think like that, Clarissa," the Queen chided. "You need to be prepared to —"

"No!" Clary screamed, rising to her feet in defiance. "I can't sacrifice him. Not ever!"

"Clary," Jace tried to calm her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly into his chest. "Shhh, baby. It's alright."

"Jace," Clary sobbed into his chest. "Please don't leave me."

"I won't baby," Jace said soothingly. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." Jace whispered to Clary, offering her his comfort until her sobs calmed.

"Clarissa," the Queen tried again. "I don't think that the vision means Jace is the one who is used for a bargaining tool."

"What makes you say that?" Maryse asked, tears streaking down her cheeks as well. She had found herself surprisingly impressed by Jace's attention to Clary and she could no longer argue that the two of them were too young to be together. In fact, she felt herself becoming excited at the idea of their marriage. But to see both her son and her future daughter-in-law plagued with so much heartache and pain, killed her. The tears formed on their own and trekked down her face.

"Father Thomas had many visions of the Angel Children," the Queen clarified. "Many of them were of the ending battle. Although they were just as confusing as the one you just saw, Jace was alive and present in each and every one of them."

"So what makes this one different?" Maryse asked as she wiped her cheeks from the moisture that had accumulated.

"If you look at it in its entirety," the Queen replied. "I believe it serves as a warning directed right at Clary. Everything about it speaks of Beelzebub's plans for her, and I think the Angels were trying to give her a heads up about what's to come."

"That makes sense," Clary said, slightly hiccupping in between. "It feels right but I'm not sure." She looked down at the ground to see that the rune of Understanding had dissipated; only leaving faint white lines indicating where it had once been.

"Maybe we should call it a day," Robert suggested, taking in the tired and warn out expressions of the entire group, save the Queen and Vixie. "Perhaps once we are able to sleep on what we've discussed, everything will make more sense."

Clary nodded and leaned into Jace as he held her tightly. She placed her head on his chest and sighed, content to be safe in his arms.

The group said their goodbyes to the Queen, and left for the Institute. On the way home, Clary went over the vision in her mind. She tried to see the hidden messages there instead of the raw images, but it was hard. Seeing Jace used to force her into doing Beelzebub's will was… beyond devastating. She didn't know what she'd do if she had to face that situation and she hoped she'd never have to.

* * *

**AN: I have to confess that this chapter gave me some headaches. I was so fortunate to have a couple readers review it to make sure I could iron out the kinks (or confusion as it were). So, big thanks to Majesta Moniet, BurningxImpossiblyxBright, and Liela-k. Your suggestions made the chapter so much better, I think. **

**To MsMayfly, thank you so much for helping beta this chapter. The sentences were so garbled, and now they actually make sense. And to my kick awesome beta Crazy Daisy, thanks for sticking with me!!!**

**Good news! Since these characters were so long-winded with their roundtable discussion, this chapter had to be split in two. Meaning, there is one more chapter than I'd originally intended. **

**Reviewers get previews, as always. **


	31. Chapter 29 Prisoner

**Lemon Warning: It's the last one of the book, so enjoy it my friends!**

**I wanted to take a moment and dedicate this chapter to some of the readers who have been with me since the beginning: Evil Black Poppies, littlemiss185, ddpjclaf, roselynne32, madame-bovary-was-framed, Evabell, Powersthatbe, Tonip1901, crazygirl94, glycerine217, TheaterofTragedy, celestial witch, Justareader100, burningximpossiblyxbright, midnitekitten93, magic noctrum, and Majesta Moniet.**

**Thanks for continuing to read this little fic, and I hope you will not be disappointed...**

* * *

Chapter 29 – Prisoner

"Baby," Jace said soothingly, combing a loose tendril of red silken hair behind Clary's ear. His voice was deep and soothing, like velvet. "Please, try and relax. We've got a good handle on the prophecy. We'll figure the rest out, I promise."

"That's not what worries me," Clary said with a catch to her voice. "And I'm not as upset over the whole thing as I was when I first saw it. I'm actually more hopeful now, if you can believe it."

"Then why do you seem so restless?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her body tightly, burying his face into the side of her neck as he kissed the soft skin there. They were lying in her bed, freshly showered and naked, not even bothering to dress for it would've been pointless. Clary sighed.

"I'm just," she paused, trying to find the words to describe her angst. "There's something that's bothering me about the whole thing. I know it was a vision, Jace, and that it was formulated to be used as a warning...not to be taken as truth, but I can't help but feel that part of that vision was definite. Am I making any sense?"

"Not really," Jace chuckled, kissing Clary's bare shoulder with smiling lips. The feeling of him caressing her was starting to calm her rigid muscles and she closed her eyes at the sensation. "You're exhausted, baby. You'll make more sense in the morning, when your brain is firing on all cylinders."

When they'd returned from the Seelie Court, they'd found the Institute buzzing with activity. Luke was there, discussing the missing werewolves with Maia and Simon heatedly. He seemed very concerned and had decided to head over to the pack to start looking for the missing. That was before he'd heard about the vision. When he'd seen Jocelyn stricken with fear and worry at her retelling of it, Luke had decided to put off going to the pack until morning.

Everyone had sat and listened to Jace, Vixie, and Jocelyn retell the details of the vision; the others that had been present in the Seelie Court just sat and listened stoically. Occasionally, Robert would offer a comment on a detail, but for the most part, the other three witnesses remained silent. There were several gasps as the images were retold, causing Isabelle to tear up when the final scene was described.

Simon had several questions, mostly concerning Clary and the final scene. Surprisingly, he didn't seem to flinch at being told that he was at the helm of the battle, playing the leader of a massive army on the verge of fighting to the death against an insurmountable horde of demons. At the mention of him being bound to Isabelle by the hand, he simply smiled. Neither he nor Isabelle had mentioned that they'd mated. Of course, everyone knew that their relationship had evolved – was even sexual – but no one knew the extent of it. Simon had marked Isabelle as his life mate and the image of them being bound together as one in the vision only confirmed what he'd already known: Isabelle was his, forever.

It was the visions of Clary's torment that had bothered Simon the most. She would forever be his best friend, a sister in his heart, and now that she'd seen something as horrible as Jace's death, Simon was concerned for her. He watched her as the others retold the vision and he could make out the stress and pain in her eyes. He'd seen Clary through many emotions in their lives: anger, jealousy, pain, happiness...but he'd never seen her so completely torn as she was now. She seemed distraught, yet determined to see the vision as a guideline to destroy their enemy, rather than a road map to the destruction of them all. She looked hopeful through the mounds of pain and fear in her eyes; he hoped that she would find some type of comfort in knowing that – through all the bullshit drama – her geeky friend Simon turned Vampire extraordinaire would be at her side.

Maia sat and listened with rapt attention, but as the other started to explain the Understanding rune and what they'd learned under its influence, her excitement level had perked up a notch or two.

"You mean, you were all able to sit at a roundtable discussion and figure all that crap out?" she'd said with a large smile. "That is so cool!"

Isabelle was teary during the retelling of the final scene but had been able to pull herself together by the end. She lent some valuable insight when they'd offered their theories on what the vision had meant, including Clary's hypothesis that Idris and Babylon were one in the same.

"I think Clary could be on to something," Isabelle had said. "It would explain so much about Beelzebub's motives. It just doesn't make any sense for him to be so shady about planning against us. If he wanted the world for his own, he'd just declare war and have at it. There would be no need for all the plotting and subterfuge, right?"

Magnus had been intrigued to learn of the vision, for he'd never been privileged to the information that the Oracle had shared his visions with the Seelie Queen. He was always under the assumption that Saint Thomas had gotten some type of voodoo feelings on his visions, and then was able to understand them outright. He didn't realize it had taken both him and the Queen to figure out the biggest and most confusing of them.

"I'd always assumed the old dude was banging her," Magnus said nonchalantly. "They were always clinging to one another, and Father Thomas had always been such a flirt."

Alec offered his own theories on the vision, mostly focusing on the meaning of the three werewolves leashed by Vixie's hand. He thought that perhaps they were her future children, that maybe she'd fall in love with a werewolf. Vixie laughed uncontrollably at that theory and the sound of her very rare outward guffaw made Clary and Isabelle laugh with her. Maia just grimaced, asking 'what's wrong with loving a wolf?' Jocelyn remained quiet when she'd asked but her eyebrow quirked and a small smile tugged her lips. Apparently, Jocelyn could find nothing wrong with loving a werewolf and she exchanged a knowing, furtive glance with Luke.

Jace had the distinct feeling that Alec was trying to pull straws from thin air at that moment. His theories ranged from slightly intuitive, to ridiculous. He noticed that Alec's tone was contemplative, though laced with a hint of panic. Jace thought he understood why Alec was acting so strange. Everyone in the room was purposefully ignoring the fact that there were members of their group missing from the vision; Magnus, Alec, Robert and Maia had not made an appearance and that knowledge caused an unsettling form of tension in the room. No one addressed what that could have meant, but everyone was aware of its looming presence, like a dark thunder cloud ready to drench them with the terrible truth: perhaps not all of them survive to see the ending battle.

Luke's reaction to the vision was perhaps the most disturbing. He was silent during the retelling, his gaze fixed on Jocelyn the whole time. He studied her reaction, watching for the slightest hint of discomfort. He knew that the final vision was the one that had given Jocelyn nightmares at night. It was the one that Father Thomas had told her about all those years ago. The one that convinced her she needed to keep Clary hidden from the Shadow World until she was mature enough to handle the responsibility of it all.

Father Thomas told Jocelyn to keep the vision a secret; to trust no one with the details. Until recently, she'd kept that promise. Jocelyn told Luke about the vision that night of the dramatic library scene, where Vixie, Jocelyn, and Magnus had revealed their long secret accord as underground agents against Beelzebub. She didn't know the specific details of the vision because Father Thomas had only told her what she needed to know to keep Clary safe, but what she did know, she'd shared with Luke. The images she painted for him were terrifying; now that he was hearing the vision in its entirety, he felt a wave of panic envelope him: for Jocelyn, for Clary, for them all.

When the retelling was complete, Luke began to pace rapidly, his fists clenched tightly. Jocelyn watched him steadily, as did Clary.

"This is wrong," Luke growled, his teeth elongating slightly. Clary had seen Luke angry over the years, but for the most part, he had a pretty calm temperament, especially for a werewolf. He had always been as soothing and calming as a big teddy bear, offering Clary comfort and a soft place to fall as a child. Now, Luke was incensed as he paced the ground, rage flashing behind his eyes.

"This all seems too familiar," Luke said, his voice a hiss in the deafening silence that had fallen on the room. All eyes were fixed on him, waiting for him to explain his comment. When he didn't elaborate, only continued to pace furiously, Clary chanced an interruption to his silent brooding.

"What do you mean, Luke? What's wrong?"

"I have a bad feeling," Luke growled sharply, pausing in his pacing to look at Clary, then at Jocelyn with furrowed brows, his teeth gleaming in a snarl. "This is too familiar to me."

"What part?" Jocelyn asked, her tone concerned.

"All of it," Luke responded sharply. "The missing Downworlders, the images in the vision... they're too close to what he'd wanted. It's like that night in the woods..."

"I'm confused," Jace said, coming to hold Clary in his arms. He could tell she was upset seeing Luke so angry, and he instinctively knew she needed his comfort in that moment. "What night are you referring to, Luke?"

"Valentine," Luke growled, his voice expelling the treacherous name like a curse. "That night he took me into the woods – right before the Were attacked me – Valentine told me more of his plan, his vision for the future."

"How does it relate to this vision?" Jocelyn asked, becoming more concerned now that her ex's name was involved. Just the mention of him brought up a lifetime of pain and fear in the pit of Jocelyn's heart. She could feel her automatic defenses spring to life as she moved closer to Clary instinctively.

"His experiments, his beliefs, his plans...they all coincide with the vision," Luke said loudly, coming to a complete stop as he stared daggers at Jocelyn. The look was feral, but Jocelyn knew that his anger was not directed at her. "Think about it," he growled menacingly.

"I'm having trouble following your logic," Alec said calmly, addressing Luke as the man stood seething. "Perhaps you can take a moment to calm down, then explain so we can all understand."

"I'm having trouble explaining it to myself," Luke hissed through clenched teeth. "It's just a feeling, but it's strong. I know I'm right; it's like its all coming together, all related, but I can't figure out how."

"You think this has something to do with Valentine?" Maryse asked calmly, trying to clarify Luke's train of thought.

"Yes," Luke said. "And no...it's just something he said to me that night came to my mind when I heard about Father Thomas' vision. Something about Downworlders...and using their abilities for experiments. It feels familiar, like history repeating itself."

"Oh my god," Clary gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. When Luke made the comment about history repeating, a sudden thought came to her mind; a remembered conversation with Father Thomas in the deep tunnels under the old church.

"_...He was the one whispering in the humans ears, making them second guess the Angels intentions. He would fill them with pride, lust, greed. He was the proprietor, the instigator. And he did it all without the Angels knowing. He is a liar; the original one, the creator of lies. He is also a poser, a shape shifter. He tricked them by posing himself as an Angel. He ensnared the humans of Babylon with his wicked ways, whispering half-truths and contorted promises..."_

"Beelzebub, the Liar," she whispered through her fingers.

"What is it, Clary?" Jace asked, pulling her closer against him. Clary closed her eyes tightly as hundreds of images flashed through her mind simultaneously, just as they'd done in the basement of the old Wayland manor, when the Angel Ithuriel had sent her and Jace memories of the past. Jace stiffened next to her and she could tell that he was seeing the same thing she was: a time when the Babylonians roamed the Earth and the Angels walked among them.

The visions stopped abruptly on a darkened street. They saw an image of a gorgeous, dark haired man whose beauty and power emanated from him like an enticing seduction. He had two Babylonian women, one on each arm. Both were dressed in sheer cloth and their naked bodies were visible underneath. The fabric barely covered their breasts and hips, leaving a large amount of skin viewable. The Demon's fangs elongated from his mouth – dripping in crimson – as he licked a forked tongue up each woman's neck, causing them to shudder and moan under his ministrations. Clary cringed, and just as suddenly, the image disappeared. She opened her eyes and saw Luke and her mother watching at her carefully, worry and inquiry behind their eyes.

"What was that?" Jace asked breathlessly. "Did you see – "

"Yes," Clary interrupted. "It's him."

"What are you talking about?" Jocelyn asked. "Clary, what's going on?"

"He was the one behind it all," Clary said, her voice small and distant as the truth washed over her in waves. "Jace, he's been working this entire time to get to Babylon. He's never given up; he's never retreated to the subterranean realms, like Father Thomas said. He's been here the whole time, pulling the strings in the background..."

"I think you're right," Jace agreed, still trying to make sense of the visions that he'd just seen.

"What, Clary?" her mother asked, coming to lock her hands on each side of Clary's face. "What are you talking about?"

"Valentine," Clary answered at last, her breath coming out in a huge exhale as she spoke. "Beelzebub was behind his madness. He was the one whispering in Valentine's ear, causing him to go mad. It was Beelzebub all along. It has always been him."

"Clary," Robert said calmly, coming to her side with steady steps. "I think you are over analyzing this. Valentine was a sick man, but he was acting on his own. I don't think he was being influenced by anything other than his own need for superiority."

"Wait, Robert," Maryse said, her eyes fixed on Clary and Jace. "I think she may be on to something." Robert looked at Maryse in surprise.

"Think about it. Valentine was always a smart man; charismatic and charming. His ideas were passionate enough to ensnare all of us initially," she explained, making a gesture to indicate the older four adults in the room. "It was only near the end, when he became obsessed with the Nephilium domination, that he started to sound a little maniacal."

"But that wasn't what he wanted," Clary elucidated hurriedly, breaking away from her mother's grasp. "In the end, he didn't want the Shadowhunters to take over the world; that was just a ruse, his outward excuse. His actions against the Clave proved that what he really wanted was to take over Idris for himself. Why else would he have attacked the City, using a horde of demons at his command? It was Beelzebub's latest attack on the city in attempt to take it over!"

"What?" Jocelyn asked, breathless. "What are you saying, Clary?"

"I'm saying that I think it was Beelzebub behind Valentine, Mom. Beelzebub was the puppeteer behind Valentine's attacks; I know it to be true," Clary stated, finality in her voice. "It's his M.O., evidenced over and over again throughout the centuries; his only goal is to take over the city. First with Babylon, then with Idris. He still wants Idris; the vision proves it to be true."

"Valentine almost succeeded," Simon said calmly, speaking for the first time. "It was only Clary's interference with the Alliance rune and Jace's defeat of Sebastian that thwarted his victory. If it was Beelzebub behind it all, then we might have more of a problem than we'd originally thought."

"If that is true, we have to assume that the Demon will use another person as the attacker," Luke said, his train of though mirroring Clary's theory. "Someone is working with the Demon now. I think it's safe to assume that the same person could be behind the attacks to capture Clary. Perhaps they are also behind the missing Downworlders and the assassinations at the Clave council."

"Are you sure?" Maryse asked sharply.

"No," Luke answered. "But I think it's safer to assume they are all connected, especially if Clary's theory is right."

"So, who is he controlling now?" Maia asked, her expression pensive. "Who does he have working to bring down the Clave?"

"Valentine?" Isabelle asked. "Do you think he could still be alive, working with the Demon to create chaos?"

"No," Jace responded firmly. "Valentine is dead."

"I watched him die," Clary said in agreement. "It couldn't be him."

"Then who?" Maia asked, but no one answered. Everyone looked at each other questioningly; no one was willing to offer any theories on who they thought the enemy might be.

"Perhaps we haven't met the latest villain," Vixie offered. "Maybe he hasn't made himself known."

"Or perhaps it is the traitor that the Angel warned us about," Jace said, staring at everyone pointedly.

"You think there is someone in this room that is being influenced by a Greater Demon?" Alec asked, his brow furrowed in stress.

"I don't know," Jace retorted tersely. "I'm just saying that we never determined what the Angel meant by that statement. He said that we had a traitor amongst us but we never figured out who that could be."

"I don't like where this conversation is going," Clary said, shaking her head to clear her jumbled thoughts. "I don't want us to start accusing one another of being a traitor, Jace; not now, not after everything we've been through tonight."

"I agree," Maryse said firmly. "We've done enough speculating for one evening. It's been a long day and I suggest we leave further discussion until tomorrow. Robert and I are planning to head to the City of Bones in the morning. Maybe the Silent Brothers have some insight for us."

With everyone in agreement to leave the conversation where it was, they each headed to their rooms for the night. Jace and Clary had silently made their way into her bathroom for a long, hot shower. They'd enjoyed their time together in a comforting silence, each washing the stress of the day off the others rigid body, leaving not a trace of dirt behind.

"What are you thinking about?" Jace asked Clary after several moments of silence. His hands had been playing with her hair lazily, trying to ease her worry and stress as best he could.

"Everything," Clary answered on a sigh, curling herself into Jace's chest. His arm wove around her tightly, pulling her toward him more firmly so that there wasn't a centimeter of distance between them. Clary smiled in response.

"Try and forget about it all for now, baby," Jace said soothingly, his lips resting right above her ear. "Just let it all go. There's nothing we can do about it now. Relax."

"I'm trying," Clary said softly, rubbing her lips against Jace's forearm. His skin was smooth over his taught muscle, and the feel of his strong arm around her made Clary's insides ache with need. "You're helping," she said with a small smile as she pressed her bottom toward his swollen shaft suggestively.

Jace chuckled, the sound like golden honey; warm and sensuous. He pulled away slightly to look at her body from behind; every silken line was laced with a small amount of moisture left over from their shower. He watched the curves of her body with a steady gaze, starting at the roundness of her shoulders and following the small dip in her tiny waist. Her bottom was protruded out slightly in her teasing enticement for Jace and the sight of it made his body heat surge.

When Jace had first met Clary, she was petite and small, her body more girl-like. It didn't bother him, for he'd always been attracted to her. Now, her body was all curves and muscle, fueled by her extensive training and her evolution into womanhood. Her breasts were full and supple, her legs long and toned, her stomach smooth and defined by subtle bands of muscle. She was a vision, and the faint hint of firelight cascading over her naked body made her look like a silken goddess; smooth and ready for the taking.

"Jeez, Clary," he said in a soft whisper, almost like a reverent prayer as he ghosted his hand down the line of her body. He felt her shudder beneath him as she let out a soft mewl at his ministrations. She arched her body into him in invitation and he couldn't resist any longer. He wanted nothing more than to drive himself into her in his desperate need for her, but he fought his urges into submission. He wanted to focus on her, needing her to feel him coax her body into relaxation and bliss.

His palm traced the valley of her waist, curving upward to the round peak of her hips and down her silken legs. He paused at her thigh, massaging the muscle, his fingers grazing the heated skin of her core with each passing. She squirmed beside him, wanting him to touch her where she needed it most, but enjoying his easy teasing. She pressed her head into his shoulder as his lips came to her ear, his hot breath fanning over her as he tried again to control the urge to take her like an animal.

"Clary," he whispered into her ear right before he took her lobe into his mouth with his tongue. The sensation of his mouth on her sent jolts of pleasure through her spine, and she moaned slightly at the feeling. His hand kneaded the skin and muscle of her thigh. He moved tortuously slow until she was heated and dripping with an aching need for him. His fingers curved around her thigh, lifting her leg until it was wrapped over his, leaving her wide open for his fingers to explore. His hand dipped into her dripping sex, finding her clit and massaging her to the edge of bliss quickly. She moaned and writhed against him as his fingers plunged inside her, his mouth on her neck as he sucked and licked her heated skin.

Clary was panting as Jace worked her over the edge, her body clenching and contracting through her sudden orgasm. It was fast and powerful, more than she'd expected so soon. Jace was becoming an expert at what made her tick, and she found herself becoming a prisoner to his skills quickly.

Before she could fully come down from her climax, Jace had Clary on her back, her legs spread wide for him. He plunged himself into her quickly, sheathing himself completely to the hilt. Clary gasped at the sudden intrusion as she melted into another Earth shattering climax that had her body locked down immediately. Jace was relentless, pounding himself into her steadily until Clary was arched off the bed, her head thrown back in a silent scream of ecstasy. Still, he thrust himself inside her, grunting and sweating, claiming her over and over again. With one final plunge, he exploded, finding himself growling her name through his eruption of euphoria.

They panted and collapsed into a tangle of sweat and heated skin, neither able to speak through their gasped breaths. The aftershocks of their orgasms wracked through their bodies, leaving them breathless and aching for more.

As the night rang on, the couple gave themselves over to their incessant need two more times. There was a heavy feeling of impending doom driving their need for each other and neither of them was willing to have it end. It was almost as if it was their last night of peace; their last night to enjoy themselves with total abandon, before the end began and their enemies overtook them completely.

*~*~*~*~*

Clary stretched across the bed, her body snapping in odd places and her muscles sore. She smiled softly as her body felt the aftermath of last night's activities.

Jace.

God, he was a miracle worker, able to bring her to the brink of insanity and back with a flick of his wrist – or tongue – as the case may be. Her body was humming with contentment, swimming with satisfaction, and she let out a large sigh as she took in the crisp morning air.

Clary sat up in bed as she realized that she was in her room alone. She pulled back the covers and padded over to her bathroom, thinking that maybe Jace had rose early and was enjoying a moment of solitude in the heated shower spray. The room was dampened with a slick mist, her shower walls still wet, freshly used. Jace must have showered already, perhaps stepped into the kitchen to grab them a bite to eat. Clary smiled, turning to flip on the shower so that she could be cleansed.

As she showered, her mind ran over the conversations of the previous night. There were many theories to consider; many threats encroaching upon them. Instead of dwelling on them incessantly, her thoughts lingered to her night alone in Jace's arms.

The way he held her, comforted her, and was able to bring her body droves of satisfaction again and again, was miraculous. She could feel herself heating as she thought of the way he bent her body to his will; the way he was able to entice her heart to beat with his, both churning and pumping in synchronization so that even their breaths were matched in time with their movements.

Jace.

He would forever be her anchor in this world; the one person who could bring her out of the darkness, shine a light on all the chaos and pain. Without him, she didn't know how to exist. How would she go on if something ever happened to him? She didn't know how to answer that question. All she could think about was that he was so much a part of her, if they were ever separated, she would surely die from the pain of it. She'd move Heaven and Earth to find him again because not even death could keep them apart.

Clary turned off the water and dried herself hurriedly. She whipped her hair up into a towel and pulled a light cami over her head, matched with a short pair of ripped jeans. Donning her pink slippers, she made her way down to the hall in search of Jace.

The kitchen was empty, only a freshly made pot of coffee steaming on the counter gave evidence that someone in the Institute was stirring. For the first time, Clary wondered exactly what time it was.

With a small smile, thinking of how much she could get lost in time with Jace on her thoughts, she made her way toward the library. The large room had become a sort of meeting place for the group. Besides the kitchen, it was the only room large enough to fit them all comfortably.

She swung open the large oak doors and found Maia sitting on the desk, a shining copy of Twilight sitting on her lap. The young Were was so engrossed in the novel, she didn't hear Clary enter. Clary tiptoed toward the girl, knowing that the ability to sneak up on one with such extraordinary hearing was close to impossible, but damn it if she wasn't going to try.

"I know you're there, Clary," Maia said softly, not even bothering to look up from her book. "I'm on a good part; don't interrupt me."

"Really?" Clary laughed. "I never thought of you as a Twilight sort of girl."

"I'm reading it for the Werewolves, obviously," Maia said, a roll of the eye in her tone of voice.

"Well, I guess you should know that the wolves don't show up until the second book."

"Are you serious?" Maia asked, her head snapping to Clary's with a slightly frustrated edge. Clary nodded. "Well, that would make sense, since I haven't read hide nor hair of one."

Maia snapped the book shut, turning to look at Clary with a wide grin on her face.

"Where have you been all morning?" she asked with a knowing grin. "I was beginning to think Jace put you in some type of coma." Clary laughed hardily.

"Pretty close," she chuckled. "I was actually looking around for him. He was gone when I got up this morning. Have you seen him around?"

"He ran off to Taki's this morning," Maia answered, rubbing her belly with a large smile. "Said he'd bring me back a nice juicy steak if I kept you company while we waited."

"Perfect," Clary smiled. "I could really use some biscuits and gravy."

"How do you know that's what Jace is getting?" Maia asked through a smile.

"I don't know how he does it, but he always seems to know what I want," Clary answered. "It almost like he can read my mind at times."

"Wow," Maia said. "Must come in handy. Seems you two are pretty closely bonded."

"Yeah," Clary nodded.

"Pity," Maia mused softly, almost too low for Clary to make out.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Nothing," Maia answered quickly and abruptly changed the subject. "Luke went to the pack this morning; he took your mom with him. It seems he's feeling pretty guilty for leaving them alone for so long."

"Luke had obligations," Clary tried to justify, but Maia held a hand up to stop her.

"I know," she said quickly. "I didn't say that his feelings were justified. It'll be nice to have Luke around the pack again. We'll feel more secure to have our alpha back in charge of things."

"You haven't been around there lately," Clary clarified. Maia shrugged.

"I know, but I could feel the tension among the pack when I went yesterday. They're on edge because of the missing and I hope that Luke can ease some of it." Clary nodded, coming around the desk to look at some of the lists that Alec had compiled over the last couple of days. One of them entailed an outline of the last vision. On the bottom of it, Alec had written a list of questions and theories about the vision, one of them stating, 'Where are the missing members of the group: Dad, Magnus, Maia, and me.'

"Do you think the missing werewolves are part of the whole prophecy thing?" Maia asked softly. Clary shrugged, setting the paper back down on the desk.

"I don't know," Clary answered honestly. "I think they are. It feels like all of this is linked somehow. And if my theory about Beelzebub being behind Valentine's crazy plots is right, then I think we can assume that he'd try and complete what Valentine started. I just don't know _why_ he was experimenting with the Downworlders. What could he gain from it?"

"Don't know," Maia answered. "I know that it bugged Magnus, though. He and Alec have left to some sort of Wizard meeting or something. Magnus is trying to get a head count on all the missing in his tribal land. Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood went to the Silent Brothers to see if they have anything to offer."

"Where are Isabelle and Simon?" Clary asked.

"Not sure," Maia answered with a smile. "I don't think they've come up for air yet." Clary smiled, looking at Maia with a furtive glance, and both girls fell into a fit of giggles.

"They are so bad," Clary laughed.

"I know," Maia agreed, chuckling. "Their room is right by mine. With the supped up hearing, can you imagine what I'm privileged to?"

"Oh no," Clary said through a loud guffaw. "Do they know you can hear them?"

"Probably," Maia laughed. "I don't think they care too much."

"Oh my gosh," Clary chuckled. "Could you imagine if Papa Lightwood heard them?"

"I think he'd have the same reaction Luke would have if he heard you and Jace," Maia answered, laughing at the sobered and simultaneously disgusted look on Clary's face.

Suddenly, the phone on the wooden desk rang sharply. Clary bent to pick up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Cl-ry...elp," a choppy voice said. Clary's brows furrowed as she tried to make sense out of the garbled words.

"Hello," she called into the receiver. "Can you hear me?"

"Who is it?" Maia asked, hopping off the desk and turning to look at Clary. She only shrugged in response.

"Cl...ary," the familiar voice said in a panic, and Clary felt a sudden wave of dread settle deep inside her stomach.

"Jace?" she asked in a shrill tone.

"Clary....send.....elp," Jace responded through a heavy static line. She could only make out bits and pieces of what he'd said. "...attack....city of bones."

"Attack?" Clary said, her posturing straightening suddenly. She looked at Maia in alarm, and the Were came to her side so that she could listen to the conversation with her.

"Yes," Jace responded. Clary could hear the rips and snarls of what sounded like a horde of demons attacking in the background. "City of bones....been...on fire. Send...help."

"We're coming, Jace," Clary screamed into the phone. "Hang on!"

Just then, the phone went dead. Clary hung it up and tried to dial Jace's cell again. The line was dead. Clary could feel herself trembling as thousands of images crashed to her mind; images of Jace alone, fighting bloodthirsty of demons.

"We have to get there," Clary said, running to her room without looking back. She could hear Maia following behind her.

"Clary, wait," Maia called. "Shouldn't we wait for the others?"

"No time!" Clary yelled as she threw herself into her room. Quickly, she ripped off her slippers and reached for her army boots. Without bothering to change, she laced up her boots and ran to her large armoire. Inside the back panel, Clary had rows of seraph blades ready for use. Her room, like every other in the Institute, was stashed with weapons in case of a raid. She loaded herself up with as many blades as she could, whipping a large leather belt around her waist that could carry many of the heavier ones. With her stele in her back pocket, Clary ran out the door towards the exit.

"Wait," Maia said again, grabbing Clary's arm forcefully. "Shouldn't we get Simon and Isabelle?"

Clary sighed, but reluctantly agreed. They both ran down the hall towards Isabelle's room and threw open the door, not even caring that they would most likely find them both in compromising positions. But the room was vacant.

"Maybe they went out for a bit," Maia said hurriedly, coming into the room as if to start a search for them.

"Doesn't matter," Clary screamed, her hand going to her hair in frustration. "We have to get out of here."

"Clary, we can't go alone. We won't be of much help with just the two of us. And what about the prop –"

"I don't care about any of that shit," Clary screamed, nearing hysteria. "We need to go and help Jace. He's all alone!"

"Clary, think about it," Maia implored. "Jace wasn't at the City of Bones this morning. He went to Taki's to get food. What if this is a trap?"

"It doesn't matter," Clary cried, tears streaming down her face. "We need to go."

Clary ran down the hallway towards the exit. She flung open the stairwell and jumped down the flight of stairs to the first level. Running out the door, Clary looked back briefly to see that Maia was following her heels, both running against the clock to save Jace from annihilation.

* * *

**AN: Thanks to Crazy Daisy and MsMayfly for their awesome beta skills. Bonus links on my profile, will cover the last chapters until the end.**

We are very close to the ending, but be warned, this is the ending to a BATTLE, not the WAR.

**Reviewers get previews, as always.**


	32. Chapter 30 Deception

**Thanks to Crazy & MsMayfly. You guys are my muses when I'm good and stuck on a chapter. Thanks for taking this draft after draft. I think I'm finally happy with how it turned out!**

* * *

Chapter 30 – Deception

Katia had been patient; she had stayed in the background, waiting tolerantly for this opportunity. She knew a moment such as this would fall into her lap, and the evil inside her churned in anticipation for the kill.

Katia wanted revenge, and she wanted it thoroughly. Mere death and destruction would not suffice.

Pain.

Torture.

Agony.

Those were the elements of blissful revenge that called to her, sang through her blood the sweet song of euphoric, satisfying retribution. She needed the whole lot of them to suffer, to pay for what they'd done to her, but most of all, she wanted that Angel Bitch to writhe in excruciating pain at her hand.

And Magnus – that treacherous snake – had seen his last days on this Earth, Katia could guarantee that fact. She couldn't believe her eyes when she'd seen him fighting to defend the so-called Angel Girl. Who did he think he was? A scavenging pirate turned sacrificing hero?

The Magnacious who'd valiantly fought against three Children of Lilith on the holy ground of St. Patrick's was not the selfish, narcissistic man she'd once known so well. He was the one that had taught her the art of self-perseverance. Magnacious had always been anything but loyal, protecting his number one interest: himself.

She had known him to loath the Nephilium, claiming that their drive for supremacy over everything that moved was the chief cause for Downworlder suppression. She had joined forces with him once, fighting against the secret squad of Nephilium assassins. During those blood-filled years, Magnacious had been so passionate about his disdain for those that called themselves the preservers of the Shadow World.

So what had changed? What had caused him to do a complete one-eighty and fight to defend one of those he'd hated so fiercely? Katia didn't know, and frankly, she didn't care. All she could focus on was his blatant alliance with the Nephilium. How he'd fought mercilessly against his own kind like a damn puppet, controlled by the Clave itself. And what was worse, he'd shared his powers with Clarissa so that she could come out of the brawl victorious. It was only by some divine miracle that Katia had survived Clary's brutal attack, that she was able to heal herself and Verculis and get them both to safety.

Unfortunately, their Proprietor had not believed their survival as fortunate as she had. Because of Clary and Magnus' combined efforts, Katia had not completed her task in which she was hired to do, and when she'd returned to her employer empty handed, he had made her suffer for her failure miserably.

An unknown financier had hired Katia and her thugs for one specific purpose: capture Clarissa Fairchild and bring her to him, alive. His instructions were precise and explicative, his funding insurmountable. Katia surmised that the man had wanted Clary desperately, so she was able to finagle more money from him if she'd promised a quick return on his investment. He complied to her demands all too willingly, and Katia reveled in her newfound wealth.

So when she'd shown up to the meeting place without Clary in tow, he'd become incensed; Katia barely escaped with her life, promising that she would not fail again. He'd given her one more chance to succeed, and Katia did not take his mercy for granted.

But he had never specified what Katia was to do with her once she'd obtained the girl. His only condition was that she bring the girl to him alive. He'd never said she couldn't have a little fun with Clary before the exchange took place. Katia's vengeful mind had worked countless ways to pay Clary back for her victory, a thousand times over, if the time allotted. She'd spent countless hours fantasizing about the moment when she would have Clary in her grasp again, the moment where she'd watch with excited enjoyment as the bitch's face contorted in pain and agony. The methods of torture she had planned were vast and brutal. She planned every moment of macabre entertainment down to the second. It would happen; it was only a matter of time.

At first, Katia wasn't sure what she wanted to do with Clary, after the hours of agonized screaming she'd invoke. She would love nothing more than to kill the bitch herself, but it would come at a high price; he'd demand her own life in return. She had the option in front of her though, and the idea of watching blithely as the heavenly light of life faded from Clary's green eyes was oh so tempting. What was a witch to do?

She'd finally decided to bring Clary to her avid seeker eventually, but not until after the bitch suffered through hours of torment. The problem was, now – due to Katia's previous failure – the Nephilium knew that someone was after Clary and had doubled their efforts at protecting her. The Institute was guarded, warded against any magically assault. Plus, with that traitor Magnacious on their side, he'd see any spell work from a mile away. She needed another avenue to get to Clary but the solution had evaded her.

Katia spent days in meditation, linking herself with the dark elements of the Earth to help her penetrate the defenses around Clarissa. She communed with the _Kajola_: ancient beings who fed off chaos and destruction. They had whispered to her, telling her the secrets of life and death. They aided in strengthening her dark powers, and in return, she pledged seventy souls as repayment, bartering her own soul and powers as backup if she failed to comply. It was a simple trade, one that she'd made before. The price of sacrificing the dead to the dark elements shaded her soul, entrenching the essence of her more fully into the black abyss of evil. But Katia had become numb to the effects of the Shaded World, her soul had long been lacking anything of the Light.

With her powers amplified to unprecedented heights, Katia was ready for attack. She just needed a way into Clary's stronghold. She'd tried to rally demon attacks city wide, but the Institute did not stir. She attack helpless groups of Mundanes, but they yielded no reaction from the Clave. It seemed they were concentrating only on protecting those that were guarded within the hallowed walls, and Katia couldn't thwart their efforts.

She was running out of time to produce her captive. So, she waited, hoping for the moment when her luck would turn around.

It had taken time and much scheming to gain any ground, but finally, the perfect opportunity presented itself; it happened so coincidentally, it was almost as if she had planned it from the beginning. Perhaps the dark ones had aided her, for she knew that they would not want the Angel Girl to continue her evasion for long; it didn't interest the Shaded World for the Light to prevail so freely.

In her good fortune, Katia was waiting to strike; it was only a matter of minutes before she would take control.

The room – if you could call it that – was small with sharp angles. The walls were not solid, made up of bars and brick; hardly keeping any semblance of normalcy. She could tell that who ever lived here had attempted to doll it up, trying to make it resemble a bedroom, instead of a pathetic niche of space. The stupid little girl had hung strips of pink and purple cloth along the walls in order to give herself the illusion of privacy. A sorry excuse for a bed took up half the room, the other side was encroached by a large dresser, stuffed with clothes that looked like something out of the eighties. The child had stacks of CD's, ranging from pathetically dull music, to independent rockabilly groups Katia recognized from Verc's own collection.

_Pity,_ Katia thought as she idly thumbed through the girl's belongings. _Verc would've liked to play with this one, I think. _

"Guys," the girl called, the sound echoing down the vacant corridor. "Wait here. I'm going to grab a bag of things, then I'll be right back and we can head out."

Katia threw herself into a darkened corner, muttering an ancient cloaking spell under her breath so that it appeared that her body became part of the background. She waited on bated breath for the girl to enter her trap, waited anxiously as the golden opportunity she'd waited countless hours for finally arrived.

After several more minutes, the girl entered the room. She was a petite, frail-looking thing, but Katia knew that under that innocently feminine exterior beat the heart of a wolf.

She watched quietly as the girl began to rummage through a couple drawers of the dresser, throwing several garments into an old, army-style duffel bag. Once she'd gathered enough clothing to last her a week, she made her way over to the stacks of CDs that were only mere inches from Katia's hiding place.

The girl picked through several of the thin squares, looking at each title pensively. Katia remained silent, waiting for her to finish gathering her things. A moment later, the girl froze; her tiny ears began to elongate as if she'd sense something not quite right in the room and needed her Were hearing to pick out the source.

Katia didn't set out to kill the girl, not at first anyway. She mad a split second decision, once Maia had found her hiding under the guise of her disillusionment charm. The girl's claws had lengthened, her sharp teeth barred as she stared daggers into the darkened corner where Katia stood cloaked. If she hadn't acted quickly, the girl would have given her away and others would come to investigate. She had to kill her; otherwise, all her hard work would have been destroyed.

Before the girl could lunge at her, Katia set off a binding spell that hit Maia square in her chest. Her small body fell to the ground with a soft thud. Eyes held wide, Maia stared at Katia as the disillusionment charm faded, fully revealing her presence.

Maia watched as Katia bent over her frozen body, tears forming at the side of her eyes as she tried to fight the binding spell in vain.

"I didn't want to do this," Katia's soft, melodic voice whispered throughout the silent room. The sound of it would've been comforting, had it not been for the guile behind her words. "I was only looking for information but this is much better, I think." Katia wiped a hand soothingly over Maia's sweaty brow, looking fondly down on her like a concerned mother.

"I need you to do something for me," she said softly, tracing her hand from Maia's head, down her neck, and finally resting between her breasts. The girl's eyes, full of fear, seemed to widen infinitesimally. She withdrew her hand slightly from the girl's chest and saw the flash of confusion in her eyes.

"Sleep, young one," Katia crooned as her hand landed squarely over Maia's heart. "Slumber the deep sleep of death. I take your soul into my body. And thou shalt your body return to mother Earth. By the goddess, I provoke thee into thy breast. Heart to heart, your soul I claim, light to dark. Thou shall you rest, evermore a part of death."

A shaded spark of light shot from Katia's hand, coursing into Maia's frozen body. The young girl writhed as the strength of the light shook her to the core. She twitched and silently groaned, her lips pursed together tightly in pain and torment. Katia laughed softly as she saw the light gather in Maia's eyes, which were frozen wide in shock and pain. She was going to die, Maia knew it, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"Come to me," Katia called softly, pulling the light back with her call. As her hand retreated, a shimmering, pellucid cloud left Maia's body and began to follow Katia's beckoning. The witch opened her mouth widely and moved her hand toward her face. As if she was ingesting Maia's very essence, the angelic light crept into Katia body, causing her to laugh lightly at the tickling sensations the foreign life force produced as it filled her completely.

"Oooo," Katia giggled. "That feels funny." She looked down at Maia's lifeless body, angling her head slightly as she admired the way the young girl looked at the edge of death. The witch always got a high after a kill; this one was more than just a random death. It signified the beginning of the end for Clary, and Katia smiled as Maia's memories – etched in her life force that she'd so quickly ingested – swam behind her eyes.

The visions, the secrets, all became part of her own recollection as the last couple days worth of moments came to Katia's presence. She smiled at her new found knowledge, knowing that she had more to bargain with than she'd originally believed.

Katia picked up Maia's forgotten duffel bag, loaded with the small girl's belongings. She picked up a CD off the pile, the one she'd seen the girl mention to the vampire. She paused to look at herself in a small mirror wedged between the bed and the dresser.

Katia stood in all her victorious glory. She whispered a dark enchantment, the language of the ancient and evil. Her body contorted and snapped, shifting into the shape of the dead girl who lay motionless on the floor.

"Hmm," Katia mused as she twisted around to admire her new form. "Nice tight ass, little wolf. I'll have fun playing with this one..."

With a humorless chuckle, Katia gathered Maia's things. She turned and watched the last bits of life drain from the wolf-child's eyes before she stepped out of the cell, and returned to Simon and Isabelle.

* * *

**AN: Everyone take a deep breath...calm cool and collected. **

**Yes, she really is dead. And no, she was not working against Clary and the others the whole time. But is she the traitor the good priest spoke of? Hmm...**

**We are on the final countdown. A mere three chapters lie before us, so hit the review button people. Let's rally up the hits on this bad body to bring it to the end!**

**Reviewers get prizes - a sneak peak at the chaos that is to follow. It will be a good one! Mwahahahahahaha!**


	33. Chapter 31 Revenge

Chapter 31 – Revenge

Taki's was blissfully quiet this morning, giving Jace the opportunity to enjoy the calm as he waited for his two orders of biscuits and gravy, and a rare steak on the side. He knew the biscuits were Clary's favorite, and that she'd be ravenous this morning after last night's thorough fucking. He didn't mean to be crass about it, he was just very aware of how utterly spent they both were after he'd finished bringing them both insurmountable pleasure. With a smug smile, he could almost feel the way her muscles would protest as she stretched the sleep from her overly exerted body, knowing that it was he that had caused her all that discomfort.

Jace smiled as he remembered

"Your orders up, hot stuff," Kaelie called, bringing Jace two large Styrofoam boxes filled to the brim with steaming food. She placed them carefully into a plastic bag and handed the bundle to Jace.

"Thanks, doll," Jace replied, leaning in to peck Kaelie on the cheek innocently. Although the maneuver seemed harmless – and was something he'd done countless times before – the act somehow seemed wrong. Kaelie blushed lightly at Jace's affection, and she smiled at him furtively through her eyelashes. Jace interpreted her reaction and was immediately hit with a strong wave of guilt.

_Damn,_ he thought as he tentatively gave the girl a cursorily nod. _I am a fucking flirt. _

He gathered his things hurriedly and made a quick exit from the building. On the way back to the Institute, Jace couldn't help but berate himself for his behavior. He honestly didn't think before he'd kissed Kaelie, it was almost automatic; he'd just reacted the same way he always did with her, with any female, really. Besides Isabelle and Maia, he seemed to have a special way with the ladies. It was probably that same suave attitude that sparked his embarrassing history with Vixie. She'd turned out to be pretty okay in his book, so he had no doubt that their questionable stint as lovers had been instigated by his flirtatious and gregarious behavior.

Now that he was so enthralled with Clary, he could see how his innocent actions with Kaelie could hurt her, even if he didn't mean anything by them. He thought back on the countless times Clary had been forced to endure the women he'd messed around with in the past coming up and flirting with him. Clary had been so upset by it all, and at the time, Jace honestly couldn't see her point of view. If he was coming home to her, why should she care what other women thought of him?

That had been a completely arrogant and selfish rationale on his part.

She had every right to be annoyed by his behavior, even if he'd acted so flagrantly with women before he'd met her. He hadn't acted chivalrous; he hadn't acted like a gentleman at all. He baited and he took from women, disregarding his honor and ignoring their virtue completely.

Now look what he'd done; on the first opportunity he'd had being away from Clary and out in the public eye since they'd consummated their engagement, he'd done it once again. Yes, it was just an innocent peck on the cheek to a girl he used to know intimately, but would it bother him if Clary had done the same thing to some dude she'd slept with? It was true that Clary had been a virgin when they'd finally made love, but that didn't change the fact that Clary had been intimate with other guys before. What if one of them was around her and she was as cavalier with her affection towards them? Would that bother Jace?

It sure the fuck would.

So now he had a cold serving of guilt to contend with, on top of the mound of anxiety he felt every moment of the day, knowing that someone was after Clary, was jonesing for her like a wild man. A solid form of discomfort formed in the pit of his stomach as he made the five minute trek back to the Institute, making him feel a little on edge. It could be the fact that he hadn't been away from Clary this long in a very long time, and he chucked it up to being nothing more than wanting to be by her side.

_When did I become so freakin' whipped,_ Jace thought with a crooked smile on his face. _When she let out that first little moan at your hand, dude. _He answered himself with a knowing chuckle.

He was so deep in thought, he hadn't noticed that he had already returned to the Institute. He quickly opened the door and rode the elevator up to the second floor living accommodations on autopilot. By the time he'd reached Clary's room, he felt a burning need to get to Clary asap.

On top of wanting to hold her in his arm – preferably naked, of course – he found himself determined to make things right between him and Clary. No more disrespect; no more down playing. He'd be true to their relationship, honor her feelings and portray the utmost commitment to her to the public, so that no other could ever doubt his passion for her.

Jace fisted the handle and eased the door open slightly, hoping not to awaken his slumbering bride-to-be if she wasn't already stirring. He poked his head in the door to see if she was still asleep, but was met with a disaster area. Chuckling, Jace opened the door fully and took in the sight of the room. Clothes and items had been thrown about carelessly. Her armoire doors stood ajar, the clothes that had once hung on the rod inside, lay haphazardly across the ground.

A odd sense of dread came swarming up Jace's spin, but he quickly brushed it off. Clary was probably going crazy over a lost shirt, Jace mused rationally, smiling as he picked up a few items here and there, as he made his way to the bed.

"Clary," Jace called with a smile, expecting her to come storming out of the bathroom, half naked and demanding to know if he'd seen her missing article of clothing. But there was no response.

"Clary," Jace called again, looking toward the bathroom door. It was open; the lights were off.

Thinking she could possibly be in the kitchen, Jace grabbed his bundle of food and traipsed down the hall. Inside the large eating area, he found Isabelle and Simon enjoying the morning sun. Izzy was eating some burnt toast – the woman could burn water, she was such a bad cook – and Simon was grazing over the morning paper.

"Hey," Jace said, taking in the room at large to see if perhaps Clary was hiding in a darkened corner.

"Morning," Isabelle said, not looking up from the magazine she had sprawled out before her.

"You seen Clary?" Jace asked, peeking over Isabelle's shoulder to see what she was so interested in. Simon and Isabelle shook their heads in response, but Simon had lifted his head to look at Jace more fully.

"She was gone when I went to check on her earlier," Simon responded in a calm tone, despite the concern in his eyes. "She wasn't with you?" Jace shook his head.

"I ran out and grabbed breakfast," he responded, holding up his cargo as evidence. "I came back to surprise her, but her room was empty. Looked like a bomb went off in there. I figured she'd been looking for something. You haven't seen her around?"

"No," Isabelle answered, meeting Jace's anxious gaze. "When we got up this morning, everyone was gone. We figured that Luke went to the pack, like he'd discussed last night. I knew Mom and Dad were planning a trip to the Silent Brothers, and I'd figured you and Clary went with them."

"What about Alec and the others?" Jace asked, a strange feeling of dread starting to creep up into his chest. "Have you seen them?"

"No," Isabelle replied. "I figured Maia went with Luke, and Alec and Magnus are off doing whatever it is that they do. I haven't seen anybody."

"You didn't see anyone when you left?" Simon asked in his somber tone.

"Maia was up this morning," Jace replied, setting his forgotten food on the counter as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. The alarms were going off in his mind, but he couldn't justify an all-and-out panic attack yet. Once the Institute was searched thoroughly and Clary was still missing, well, that was a different story. "I told her where I was going and asked her to keep an eye on Clary."

"Where was she?" Isabelle asked, pulling out from the table to follow Jace out the kitchen. Simon followed her simultaneously.

"Library," Jace replied as he padded down the hall in that very direction, Simon and Isabelle closely behind. His heart was racing furiously; the ball of anxiety he'd tried to playoff earlier was throbbing in his chest like a built-in alarm clock.

Jace swung open the large doors of the Library to find Vixie alone, reading a book by the light of the fireplace, the thick curtains were pulled tight, keeping the room in darkened shadow. The trio spread out all around, making sure not a single square inch of the room was not visualized for Clary's presence.

Vixie looked up from her chair, smiling warmly at the newcomers. But when she'd taken in their concerned expressions, her mood changed abruptly.

"What's wrong?" she asked sharply, closing her book with a snap.

"Clary," was the only reply she received before Simon took off in a dead sprint toward Clary's room. Jace followed on his heels, shouting out commands for everyone to spread out to look for her. Vixie and Isabelle searched the Infirmary and sitting rooms, while Jace threw himself upstairs toward the Conservatory.

"Clary," he screamed into the room, the sound echoing off the glass windows that encased the indoor greenhouse. It had been Hodge's hobby to care for the houseplants, and no one had really kept up the chore once he'd left. The dying remnants of what once had been a luxurious oasis hung from pots falling heavily to the ground, turning the room into a somnolent graveyard. The room felt cold and unwelcoming, and it made Jace's anxiety and fear for Clary double in intensity. The air was hushed, nothing stirred in the vacant space. Dead silence was Jace's only answer, and the tears pricked behind his lids as his need for Clary's safety hit him hard.

Rushing down the stairs, Jace's breath came out in rasps as the panic enveloped him. He couldn't see straight, almost as if he had blinders on. His only focus was on finding Clary, everything else be damned.

He found Simon and Isabelle in Clary's room; Vixie entered a step behind him.

"Anything?" Vixie asked, and Isabelle shook her head in reply. It was Simon who held his hand up to stay anyone from talking. His face was calm and focused on his task, but Jace didn't understand exactly what the mutant Vamp was doing.

He watched with rapt attention as Simon bent down to the ground, focusing intently on a piece of shaded carpet. The color variance was minimal, only detectable by the very patient and skilled eye, but it was there, as bright as a beacon to anyone gifted with the Light. It was like a calling card left by a Shade: one who'd sold their soul to the Kajola. Simon didn't understand the significance of what he'd found, but he knew that it was important and that it had been caused by someone that was very much their foe.

"What are – " Jace began, but Simon held his hand up in a demand for silence once again as he tried to concentrate on the varying levels of energy, deciphering through the chaos left behind by the Shade. He was attempting at finding a specific trace of energy: a smell, an essence, anything that would help determine who'd had been inside Clary's room. This skill seemed to come naturally to Simon, almost as if it was innate to his being. He was trying to find Clary based on his most basic instincts, and those strong affinities were driving his actions now.

Jace bit his lip, his need to scream out in frustration burning behind his teeth. It felt like hours, but only mere second later, Simon stood up straight abruptly with a growl on his lips.

"Maia," his menacing voice spat out, and for the first time since his transformation, Jace could see the tamed beast that lie dormant under Simon's cool exterior. The Vamp's eyes were blazing a fierce and piercing shade of blue. His teeth were sharp and barred. But it wasn't the look of Simon that made Jace's hair stand on end, it was the essence of death that emanated from him like waves of stifling heat. Simon became so radiant with caged fury, that he seemed to almost become luminescent, as if a flashlight was being held against his skin from the inside. Simon was like an avenging angel in that moment, and Jace was damn glad to have the dude on his side.

"What about Maia?" Isabelle asked, placing her hand on Simon's trembling shoulder. She was either completely oblivious to the beast that was the once nerdy Simon, or she didn't give two shits about her own safety. Jace watched in awe as Isabelle remained completely composed next to Simon; she was the calm to his storm.

"It's her," Simon replied through barred teeth, the sound of them gnashing together sent a chill through Jace's spin. "She took Clary."

"Took her?" Vixie replied, standing slightly behind Jace as she watched Simon with the same awed and fascinated respect that Jace was. He noticed that she was probably using him as a shield, in case Simon wigged-out unexpectedly. "What do you mean, Simon? Maia is one of us; she's a good guy."

"No," Simon barked in retort.

"She's the traitor?" Jace asked in fury, forgetting about his initial hesitancy towards Simon's restraint, and took a step closer to the raging beast.

"Not the traitor," Simon replied, closing his eyes in attempt to regain his composure. "It's not her. Not Maia. I felt something was off before. Now, I know. It wasn't her."

"What?" Isabelle gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a small sob.

Just then, the Institute doors were thrown open, and the sound of feet pounding up the stairs reverberated down the hall. Jace grabbed a seraph blade that was lying on the floor and whispered a quick name to enlighten it. He threw himself out into the hall, Simon right on his heels, ready to face an attacker. What he saw made him drop his sword and fall to his knees in agony.

Jocelyn was bloodied and unconscious, being carried gently by Luke in trembling hands.

"Maia," Luke growled, half in a wolf state in his unbridled fury. "She's dead. Someone killed her. The one who is here is not real."

"Luke, what happened," Isabelle cried, coming to his side to check Jocelyn's condition.

"She found the body," Luke explained, crouching down slightly so that Isabelle could inspect Jocelyn's wounds. "I don't know what happened. Some kind of explosion was set off before Jocelyn could warn me. She was only able to speak briefly before she fell unconscious. Where's Magnus?"

"Clary's gone," Jace cut in, ignoring Luke's question and looking pointedly at the Were.

"What do you mean?" Luke asked in a low growl, his vision zeroing in on Jace. "You were supposed to keep her safe. What do you mean she is gone?"

"I only went out briefly, Luke. I swear, I was gone for only ten minutes. She was gone, and Maia is missing too."

"That's not Maia," Luke barked in retort, his eyes turning a stark shade of piercing yellow. "Maia is dead!"

"We know, Luke," Vixie interrupted, coming to place herself in between Luke and Jace. "We need to go after her. Simon's got some kind of lock on whoever was posing as Maia. Isabelle will stay with you and help you find Magnus. He needs to get here fast, and Isabelle knows how to find him and Alec."

"I am not trusting him to find Clary," Luke growled, staring at Jace with brazen disappointment and disdain.

"Then trust me, Lucian," Vixie replied fiercely. "Trust Simon. We will bring her back, and Jocelyn needs you right now. We are wasting time."

"I'll call Mom and Dad, tell them to get their asses back here pronto," Isabelle chimed in, agreeing to Vixie's plan. She grasped Jace's stiff shoulders and stared into his eyes deeply. "Bring her back, Jace. Focus on that only, not on any mistakes that were made. Focus." She kissed him on the forehead and turned to help Luke with Jocelyn.

Without further argument, Jace turned and made his way to the Weapon's Room, Vixie and Simon close behind him. Quickly, he geared himself with several seraph blades, a Katana sword, three sets of Sais and short throwing knifes. Simon grabbed two thin swords and strapped them to his back. Vixie stripped out of her short dress she'd had on, not caring that there were two men in the room. Neither of them commented on her actions, just continued to ready themselves for battle. Vixie went to the closet and grabbed a thick leather jacket, steel-toed boots, and heavy cargo pants to effectively protect her body. She quickly pulled her hair into a sharp ponytail and then loaded herself down with blades, throwing rings, and a huge crossbow.

Moments later, the trio was stepping off the steps of the Institute, following Simon's lead on the imposter.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"What if we're too late, Maia," Clary cried as she ran, a glowing seraph blade held tightly in her fist. "I can't bare it if I lose him."

"I'm telling you, Clary. We need to take the subway. It'll be faster than if we hail a cab," Katia replied, mirroring the tone and timber of the girl she was portraying. She knew it was only a matter of time before the Lucian Greymark found Maia's dead body, but the surprise the witch had left for him should buy her a little more time to get Clary secluded. She just needed Clary to be a little more cooperative for her trap to be successful, and she was sick of trying to convince the girl to see things her way.

"Fine," Clary screamed, tired of arguing with Maia. She just wanted to get to the Silent City as soon as possible. It didn't matter how they got there, just when. Time was running out for Jace; she could feel it. Almost as if she'd felt the angst stirring in the air, she could sense when Jace was distraught about something. It had surprised her at first when she'd received his distress call because she hadn't felt any foreboding in particular. So when Jace's voice echoed through the phone, alone and alarmed, Clary began to panic. She berated herself for not sensing something sooner.

Now as they were running to aid her life mate, she could sense Jace's distress like a strong riptide. It pulled and tugged at her heartstrings, fueling the fire deep inside her that sought out his strong arms in comfort.

"Here," Maia called, pointing toward an underground substation that linked directly with the stop outside of New York's Marble Cemetery, where the entrance to the City of Bones lay hidden. Clary followed her friend down the steep stairwell, thankful that she had a comrade that she trusted completely at her side. Maia wasn't the best fighter of the group, but Clary had never had a reason to question her loyalty. Maia had been true and honest from the beginning, and when everything felt like it was falling apart due to lies and deceit, it was Maia that Clary found to be the most forthcoming.

The girls came to an abrupt halt in the vacant station, both panting and sweating as they awaited the next train to pass through. Clary was bent over, her hands on her knees as she tried desperately to catch her racing breath.

"What...time...is...the...next...train?" she managed through gasps and pants, not having enough energy to even lift her head to check the time clock on the wall above her. When Maia didn't answer, Clary swallowed down her exhaustion and lifted her head to see for herself.

The clock said that the next train would arrive in five minutes, and Clary groaned in frustration, not thinking she could wait that long with Jace's life hanging so precariously on the edge.

"Maia, I think we should make a run for it," Clary suggested brusquely, turning to address the girl directly. She was met with a stone cold silence, and an empty room. Maia was nowhere to be found, and Clary's eyes widened in panic.

"Maia," Clary called tentatively, her voice echoing off the tiled walls of the station. There was no response, only the slight rumble of the tracks reverberating down the darkened tunnels.

Clary looked around the wide room, looking for any trace of movement, any hint of where Maia could have gone. The florescent lights flickered eerily, causing shadowed movements to form in the corners of Clary's peripheral vision. She looked both ways sharply, trying to make out the slightest hint of an evil presence, but she saw nothing but empty space.

With her blade fisted tightly in her hand, Clary was fighting herself not to call out again. She was concerned for Maia and wondering what might have happened to her, but something inside her was telling her to shut the hell up, to not bring too much attention to herself.

They say that hindsight is twenty-twenty, but in this case, common sense should have come into play. Clary realized in that moment that it was strange that the stop was completely void of any activity, especially during this time of the morning in New York City. The oddity of that fact hadn't crossed Clary's mind at first, but it was becoming bracingly clear to her now that Maia had gone missing.

The sense of dread was beginning to sharpen in her mind, acting like a sixth sense to her overworked mind. She was so consumed with finding Jace that she hadn't stopped and thought about the implications of his distress call. Now that she was ominously alone, her mind quickly ran through the mornings events, the images flashing through her mind like a projector set on rewind.

Jace had called her on the Institute's private line, not her cell phone. The line was restricted only for the use of Clave business; it was not given out to the public. It was a possibility that Jace had tried to call Clary's line and received no answer, but if that was the case wouldn't he then try someone else? Alec? Simon? Vixie even? They had all made it a strict practice to carry their only means for communication with them at all times, so Jace should have been able to get a hold of someone through the normal avenues. And yet, he hadn't.

Another issue that was making itself obvious was why Maryse and Robert had called Jace to the fight at the Silent City, but no one else. Sure, they'd call him first because he was their strongest fighter, able to rally the troops to their aid. But wouldn't Jace have made a point to call for backup on the way to the City of Bones? It wouldn't make sense for him to wait until he was in the thralls of battle before he made the distress call, would it?

No, Clary decided, it wouldn't. And now, conveniently, she'd found herself alone and defenseless, with only a couple seraph blades to aid her against any attacker. If this was a trap – and Clary was realizing that it probably was – she'd pretty much offered herself up on a silver platter for her enemy. Only Maia stood between Clary and her assailant, and her now, she'd gone missing as well.

Clary had been trained to fight, but she wasn't supreme, like Jace or Vixie. She could hold her own against the average demon, but any supped up villain would give her a run for her money, and now she couldn't help but feel terrified that she'd placed herself in harms way foolishly trying to save Jace from a fate...that he probably wasn't subjected to in the first place.

Everything in Clary was screaming at her to make a run for it, but she seemed to be glued to the spot, not able to leave her friend alone to an unknown fate. She slowly started to creep across the floor, making her way to the staircase that led up to the street above. She wanted to find Maia, but she knew that even if she did find her, there would be no possible way she'd be able to fight off any formidable attacker alone. The best course of action was to get to the street, and find a way to alert the group as soon as possible.

What she didn't know at the time was that there was no possible way she was going to be able to escape.

A dark, menacing trill of a laugh reverberated around the room, sending a stone cold chill up Clary's spine. The sound seemed to come from all around her, not giving hint to where the attacker lay hidden.

Clary's eyes darted around frantically, trying to pick out a hint of movement, a shadow that didn't seem to belong, but she couldn't find where the sound was coming from. The voice pounded in her ears, as if the person was standing right beside her. She whipped her head around quickly and was met with nothing but empty space, the ground rumbling slightly as a train passed by without stopping.

"Boo," a voice boomed in her ear, and Clary whirled to catch her predator. Maia stood there holding her stomach in laughter. She was pointing at Clary's face, unable to form words through her mirth.

"Bitch," Clary spat, trying to swipe at Maia, irritated. "You scared the shit out of me. What the hell where you doing? It's hardly the time to fuck around!"

"Oh Clary," Maia chuckled, her lips frozen in a Cheshire cat grin. "I wasn't kidding."

Clary frowned for a moment, trying to make sense of Maia's words.

"What do you mean, you weren't kidding Maia," Clary asked, automatically taking a step back from her friend as her grin became less humorous...and more sinister.

Maia chuckled darkly, the sound coming from deep within her chest.

"You know, I almost feel sorry for the little welp," Maia said through her widened teeth, her eyes glinting in the florescent light. "She had to put up with all the damn drama around her, and she never was given a chance to cause her own."

"Who are you talking about, Maia?" Clary asked through a whispered breath, but something inside her told her the truth: that wasn't Maia. Just as Clary's brain had registered that fact, the person in front of her started to morph. The body thickened, rounded into supple curves. Her skin lightened to an almost translucent sheen. The face elongated and sharpened, and the eyes turned a vivid shade of violet.

"I'm talking about the dog, of course," Katia grinned. "But don't worry, she'll start plenty of drama when they find her body."

* * *

**AN: Big thanks to my betas! Crazy – thanks for all your good feedback. MsMayfly – wouldn't have been the same. You know what I'm saying ;) **

**Wanted to give a shout out to MsMayfly – go check out her Twilight story! **

**Reviewers receive previews....**


	34. Chapter 32 The Warrior

Chapter 32 – The Warrior

Katia was a grand illusionist. In fact, that was her main specialty: creating elaborate illusions that could trick even the most learned of magicians. They weren't glamours. No, they were much more extensive than those pitiful mirages the Nephilium could produce with their silly drawings. These were substantiate, tangible images that could fool all five senses of the body. Katia's illusions could trick the mind into believing just about anything.

So when Clary found herself alone in a vacated subway station with only a maniacally smiling Katia to keep her company, she didn't understand how she'd allow herself to be trapped by her enemy. What she didn't know was that everything about that morning had been a well-planned illusion. The call from Jace, the mad search across the Institute to find Simon and Isabelle, even the seraph blades in Clary's hands were all illusions.

As she prepared herself to battle the witch, both blades had disappeared out of Clary's fists. Each piece of heavy metal crumbled into particles as if they'd been made of sand and were carried away by a sturdy wind. Clary stood there dumbfounded, glancing between her now empty hands and the smiling witch before her.

"What happened?" Clary asked on a whispered breath, more to herself than to anyone in particular. She couldn't seem to grasp what was going on. Katia laughed as her masterful illusion began to melt from the surrounding walls, making the room turn from a clean but empty substation, to a dark, dank abandoned room that no one had frequented in a very long time. The tiles on the walls were broken and decayed; the corners of the room were filled with empty crates and forgotten trash bags. The clock she'd referenced for the next train's arrival was cracked, frozen on eleven o'clock. Clary took in her newly revealed surroundings with widened, terrified eyes.

"Surprise," Katia trilled in a singsong voice. She twirled in a little circle gregariously as if showcasing a newly refurbished bedroom. She paused with her hands held wide and took in Clary's frightened, bemused expression. Katia's features turned from delighted to one of mock concern.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Katia asked, coming closer to Clary with her hands open in invitation as if to comfort her in a warm hug. Clary backed away quickly.

"What have you done to Maia?" Clary asked, her features becoming panicked as she tried to wrap her mind around what had happened. "Where's Jace?"

"Well, I already told you that the little wolf girl is dead," Katia answered with a smile, dropping her hands to her tiny waist. "As for Jace, I'm sure he's just fine and dandy. Probably looking for you as we speak."

"He will find me," Clary said defiantly, holding her chin up and trying to cover up her trembling lower lip.

"I'm sure he will," Katia agreed with a smile. "But you'll be dead before then."

Clary cringed at her words, unable to hide her terror any longer. Katia began walking around her in a predator's circle, looking like a starving animal waiting for a vulnerability to strike.

"Oh, don't worry about Jace, my dear. I'm sure that little faerie will keep him company once you're gone. She seems like she's pretty flexible. I'm sure she'd keep Jace well sated."

"Fuck you," Clary spat, lunging toward Katia in a burning rage. But Katia simply disappeared from where she was only moments prior, reappearing on the other side of Clary laughing loudly.

"Tut-tut, you little bitch," Katia laughed. "You aren't going to get the upper hand on me, so you might as well stop trying now. Take the torture I give with a smile; make the little Angels proud, my sweet girl."

"You will not touch me," Clary growled as she whirled on Katia, her eyes narrowed fiercely. "I won't allow it."

"And how do you plan to stop me?" Katia laughed, incredulous. "You are unarmed and alone. And I am more powerful than you could possibly imagine. The others will not get here in time to save you, even if they do make it through my traps."

"Traps?" Clary asked with trepidation. Her expression made Katia laugh again, but she didn't offer a clarification to what she'd meant by that statement.

"Jace will find me," Clary offered quickly, trying to provide the confidence in her voice that had escaped her. In reality, she was terrified that the witch would get what she wanted, that Clary would die at her hand without anyone to help save her. She was horrified at what she'd done, how she'd allowed herself to become hopelessly trapped by this sadistic woman.

"What do you want from me?" Clary asked, her voice trembling. Katia smiled for a moment, just staring at Clary with dark, soulless eyes. She pretended to think about it, prolonging the moment for dramatic reasons; Katia always had a love for the theatrics.

"I want you to suffer," Katia answered slowly, quietly, while still circling Clary's frozen form. "I want you to bleed. I want you to beg for mercy, beg for death. And then I want you to die painfully and thoroughly."

"Why?" Clary asked with a shaky voice. "What have I done to you?"

"You know what you did, you little whore," Katia growled, her expression changing to one of hatred. "You ruined me, left me for dead on the steps of St. Patrick's. You killed my lover, and because of my failure to turn you over, I had to suffer horribly."

"You attacked me," Clary screamed, her hands shaking and trembling in fury and fear. "I simply protected myself. I'd never done that before, I promise you. Sometimes, things just happen like that. I can't control it. I didn't know what would happen once I'd joined powers with Magnus."

"_I can't control it_," Katia mocked in a squeaky voice. "Please. You knew what you were doing the entire time. You left me for dead, you little shit. And I do not allow my enemies to get the upper hand on me unanswered or unchecked."

"So what now? You're going to fight me while I'm unarmed? How noble of you."

"Oh, that's only the beginning," Katia laughed while waving one hand into a darkened corner of the dilapidated room. From the shadows, Clary could see a dark figure approaching. It made its way slowly, a sound like something dragging along the ground trailed in its wake.

"Verc, darling," Katia crooned as the warlock stepped into the little amount of light left in the room. "Did you bring the essentials?"

The dark, mysterious man had his eyes fixed on Clary as he grunted a reply to Katia. Wordlessly, he reached blindly into the bag that had made the horrible grinding sound upon the floor. Clary watched in terror as Verculis pulled out his arm, a rusty woodcutter's saw in his hand. The blade was coated with a darkened film that Clary knew was old, dried blood. Verculis smiled as he took in Clary's sickened expression.

"Bag is full of them, Katia," Verculis answered. "Just the tools needed to teach this little bitch a lesson."

"Oh good," Katia clapped in excitement, her smile wide and gleaming. "Go ahead, then," she said, gesturing her head toward Clary's trembling form.

"No! Stop!" Clary cried as Verculis stalked toward her, armed with the rusted saw. Clary reached around her back and pulled out her trusty stele. She just needed the right rune, she thought, one that would keep her safe. But as she fisted the stele in her palm, the instrument began to crumble and break as easily as a dirt clot. Katia laughed loudly as Clary stared at her now empty hand.

"You didn't think I'd let you leave the Institute with your most valuable tool, did you?" Katia laughed in earnest. Clary could hear the deep chuckle of Verculis accompanying Katia's trill like a macabre cadence, eerie and sadistic.

Panicking, Clary began to look around the room for some sort of weapon. Anything she could find that might help her ward off her attackers, but there was nothing to be found. Tears pricked her eyes as Verculis restarted his advances toward her, her breathing picking up in repetitious pants of distress.

"Come here, my little Angel Girl," Verculis called with a widened, vicious smile. He backed Clary into a corner, Katia flanking his other side as her heady, constant laugh echoed all around them.

"No. Please, don't," Clary pleaded, but the sound of her desperation only fueled the evils one's enjoyment further. They thrilled in it, reveled in Clary's manic plight to escape her captors unharmed.

"It's better if you hold still," Verculis instructed with a grin. "That way the blade doesn't dig deeper as you struggle."

He reached out one hand to grab Clary's forearm forcefully just as brought down the saw onto her skin. The ragged teeth of the blades ripped into Clary's skin, and beads of blood formed at the site quickly.

"No!" Clary cried as she felt the warlock's fingers clamp down on her wrist. A bright image of a rune flashed in front of Clary's mind as the warlock's skin touched hers. It was brief but vivid, so much so that it left an after image in Clary's eyes, almost like she'd been exposed to a bright flash of a camera. The residual rune stayed in her vision for several moments, and she didn't register the screaming in the room until the image had vanished completely.

"Verculis?" Katia's panicked and concerned voice asked in a high pitch squeal. "Darling, what's wrong?"

Clary watched as Verculis writhed on the ground, his body contorted in pain and agony. He had the hand he'd touched Clary with held tightly to his chest. As Clary watched, the warlock's hand began to darken and purple, almost as if the blood supply to that appendage had been completely severed. The hand was trembling as the discoloration deepened, and Verculis' screams of pain amplified.

The sickness in his hand began to creep up his arm, a spreading disease of death that started to encompass his entire body. Katia watched helplessly as her lover's skin began to bubble and boil with the fever inside him. Tiny drops of blood began oozing out of his nose and eyes.

"Katia," Verculis gurgled on a mouthful of blackened liquid. "Help me."

Katia crouched down beside him, her eyes widened as she tried to figure out a counter-spell to whatever the Angel Bitch had done to him. But before she could begin to decipher through her defensive sorcery, Verculis' began to shutter violently on the ground.

Clary watched in horror as Verculis began to melt into a mushy puddle of goo. The terrible gurgling sound his imploding body made as it liquefied made Clary's stomach turn. She began to back away as Katia screamed at the boiling remnants of her beloved on the ground.

Clary turned and ran towards the darkened tunnel, jumping onto the train tracks just as Katia's offensive spell hit Clary straight in her back. Pain shot through Clary like nothing she'd ever felt before. It took every effort inside her to be able to pull herself off of the metal beams that lined the tunnel floor and continue running in the opposite direction of the hysterically screaming witch. As she ran, Clary could feel Katia's spell begin to spread throughout her body. Tiny cuts formed along every inch of her creamy skin; the small incisions oozed and wept a dark crimson, leaving a fragrant trail to wherever she sought solace.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"She went this way," Simon called, leading the charge down the streets of New York. Jace followed him blindly, trusting that Simon was able to follow whatever kind of trace he had on Clary. If he were able to spend any energy thinking about it, he would know that Simon would never do anything to put Clary in jeopardy, but his mind wasn't able to give that thought any heed. Instead, his focus was fixated on finding Clary.

There was a burning ache in his chest that fueled Jace's urgency, and he knew instinctively that it wouldn't lessen until he had Clary safe in his arms.

Why in the hell had he ignored the feeling before? It was obvious to him now that it had been some sort of innate warning system, alerting him to Clary's distress. Since he'd so stupidly dismissed it as his nerves, he'd probably wasted valuable time that he would need to save Clary. He couldn't believe how idiotic he'd been, and now all he could think was how inadequate he was as her protector.

Luke had been right...

The burning sensation in the pit of his chest that had peaked the moment he realized Clary was missing began churning and undulating inside him, almost as if it carried a life all its own. The fiery heat didn't cause him discomfort, only aided his body in his movements and pushed him further and faster than he'd ever been driven before. His legs pumped harder, his muscles moved quicker, all without causing his body additional distress.

Jace wasn't having any problem keeping up with Simon's speedy pace. Vixie was another story.

"Should we wait for her?" Simon asked in a steady tone as they ran. His exertion did not cause him to be winded at all.

"No," Jace answered quickly. "She'll catch up."

Simon led them to an old, deserted substation, one that had been out of commission for many years. The hole that led into the underground was barricaded with heavy brick and stone barriers; several caution signs warned trespassers away.

"She went down here?" Jace asked, incredulous. Simon nodded. "What the hell was she thinking?"

"The person who has her is obviously skilled at illusion, Jace," Simon said in his eerily calm voice. "I believe it wouldn't take much to fool Clary, especially if she thought someone she loved was at risk."

Simon began ripping away the barrier to the underground tunnel with ease, the sound of crushing stone and ripping metal filling Jace's ears. He tried to help by pulling down large planks of wood, but his mind was so bombarded with dastardly images of Clary in pain. He could feel deep inside him that something was horribly wrong, and his panicked mind was creating all kinds of morbid scenarios. He started pacing back and forth, trying to gain some kind of grip on his control. He needed on explanation on why Clary was in the situation she was.

What had caused Clary to leave the safety of the Institute? Surely, she knew how much danger she'd be in without its protection. Even if she was under the impression that Maia was who she said she was, Clary still should know better than to go traipsing off with only one guard. Anyone could've overpowered her or Maia. There shouldn't be a reason in the world for Clary to leave without protection; without him to help keep her safe.

As Simon worked to free a space large enough for them to fit through, memories of Clary's words came to Jace's mind. He thought of how she'd reacted to Saint Thomas' last vision; how she'd been so distraught with the thought of something happening to him. Vixie had mentioned that the demon in the vision had used Jace, threatened his life so that Clary would do its bidding. The Queen had speculated that the vision served as a warning to Clary, to prepare her to make hard choices in the future: sacrifices.

"If my sacrifice is Jace, then there is no question. He comes first, period," Clary had replied to the Queen, and no matter how much Jace had tried to comfort her, Clary had been hysterical with worry.

She had pledged her life to him, saying that she'd risk her own for his every time. She was irrational in her belief, but she'd remained unwavering. It was the answer, Jace knew it to be. Clary had left the Institute thinking Jace was in danger. That explanation fit everything he knew about her, and it would be the only thing that would pull her away from the safety precautions they'd placed around her.

Jace became visibly angry as he came to that realization. He was angry at Clary for being so stupid, that she'd place herself in jeopardy for him. He was furious with himself. He couldn't really rationally justify why he was felt he held the most blame — perhaps just for existing — but the enmity built in his chest, his thoughts focused on his self-loathing. If it weren't for him, her life would be completely different. Somehow he knew deep in his soul that if he'd just died in his mother's womb like he was supposed to have done, Clary would be happy and safe. Her life wouldn't be in shambles, chaos plaguing her where ever she went. She'd be free from it all.

"Let's go," Simon's stern voice pulled Jace out of his inner turmoil. He watched with wide, anxious eyes as Simon made his way through the small hole he'd made, just large enough for one person to fit through at a time. As soon as Simon disappeared into the black abyss beyond, Jace followed in right behind him. The time it took to open the blockade from the subway entrance gave Vixie the opportunity to catch up to the others, and Jace could hear the patter of her footsteps as he too made his way into the darkness.

"I can't see anything," Jace complained, holding out his arm in front of him so as not to run into anything unexpectedly. He cursed himself under his breath for forgetting his witchlight at home. He'd always made a habit out of carrying the little stone, but in the rush to arm himself this morning, the thought of it completely abandoned him. It was a mistake he hoped he wouldn't come to regret later.

"Follow my voice," Simon said, the sound coming from below him as if Simon had gone down a flight of stairs. "The ground is fairly free of any obstacles on the steps, but there are some boards lying around about twenty feet ahead."

"You're not having any problem seeing?" Vixie asked, her voice coming from directly behind Jace. He could feel her warm breath on his neck, her body heat permeating into his. They both took the steps cautiously, holding onto the railing that was broken in some places.

"No," Simon replied flatly, his tone stiff. Jace felt that he could sense tension coming from Simon, not understanding where that odd knowledge came from.

"What's wrong?" Jace asked quickly, taking the last few steps safely.

"I smell blood," Simon replied, his voice a dead echo among the vacated room. "Lots of it."

Jace pulled out two seraph blades at Simon's words and whispered their angelic names. The soft blue light from the blades illuminated the room, but only slightly. The light was only powerful enough to cast a small circle around their grouping, leaving about a foot of visibility around them.

Jace's fists clenched around the hilt of each blade, arms trembling as he took in his surroundings. He was looking for evidence of Clary's death, the blood that Simon had indicated earlier. His breath was coming out in short pants as if his sympathetic nervous system shot into overdrive. He could feel the overwhelming sensation of dread overtake him, the beginnings of a panic attack.

"Can you tell whose it is?" Vixie asked as she placed a comforting hand on Jace's shoulder. He shrugged it off immediately and stared into the darkened room. He could barely make out Simon kneeling on the ground examining a dark pool of liquid. Jace went to his side quickly, the light casting shadows around the room as he moved.

"Some of it is Clary's," Simon said, his voice contemplative. "Most of it is from another: A warlock."

"A warlock?" Vixie asked. "Why would one of the Children of Lilith be involved in Clary's disappearance?"

"I don't know," Simon replied.

"Argh! We need light; I can't see a damn thing," Vixie growled, frustrated. "Jace, can't you light your blades any further?"

Jace didn't move; his eyes were fixed on the darkened pool of blood.

"Jace," Simon began, standing up from his position and looking at the trembling boy with concern.

Suddenly, a horrible scream of agony echoed from down the train tunnel, and all three heads snapped towards the sound.

"What the hell was that?" Vixie asked, her crossbow strung and at the ready. She was looking through the scope, flashing its line of sight to every corner of the room, making sure there wasn't a hidden villain ready to attack their group.

"Clary," Jace cried, getting ready to leap into action.

"Wait," Simon cried, his eyes fixed on a barely visible line etched onto the ground. Jace looked at him questioningly, but Simon just indicated the faint marking with a quirked eyebrow. He didn't know what it was, but he could feel the darkness emanating from it. It was almost as if anything beyond that line was laced in thickened shadows, and Simon had a nagging feeling that once they crossed that line, there would be a great evil on the other side that they wouldn't be able to face.

"What is that?" Vixie asked, kneeling down to examine the marking. She reached out to touch it, but stopped her hand just shy of the line. The air directly above it felt cold, dead. It gave her chills and her inner warning bell chimed off heatedly.

"I'm not sure," Simon said as he regarded the shadows beyond it carefully. "I think it's some sort of trap. The line is the trigger."

"I don't give a fucking shit what it is," Jace retorted on a shaky voice. "Didn't you hear that screaming? It was Clary, I know in my heart it was. I have to get to her now."

"Jace, we don't want to walk into an ambush," Simon replied calmly, placing a staying hand on Jace's chest as the boy made a move to cross the line. "There are only three of us and if this is a trap, you don't want us to be bombarded by a heavy assault."

"What choice do we have?" he asked heatedly, throwing his arms out wide as if inviting one of them to give him an answer to his question. There was no other way around the line. Simon could see that it stretched from one end to the other, even encompassing the tunnel floor so that any entrance point to the tunnels was barricaded.

"We don't have a choice, Simon," Vixie answered as she began to prepare herself for a fight. "I say we trigger it prepared; set up the best advantage we can muster than fight like hell to escape it."

"And if it's an explosion?" Simon asked with a straight face.

"Well," Vixie answered with a smile. "You heal fast, right?"

Simon sighed, but nodded his head in acquiescence. Quickly, Jace placed a large, glowing blade in the middle of the floor. The light of it only giving off a small window of visibility. He pulled out another seraph blade and lit it quickly, making sure he was armed to the fullest. He backed away quickly, defending himself behind a large column in case Simon triggered an explosion once he touched the line. Vixie positioned herself on the highest step she could manage, still giving her a wide view of the room but the highest vantage point she could manage. She readied her crossbow, the sight held tightly to her sharp, keen eye. Simon watched as the other two got into an ideal position. Once both gave him a short nod indicating their readiness, Simon looked back towards the darkened, shadowed line.

"Here goes nothing," he said softly as his foot crossed the proverbial line in the sand.

There was no explosion, but immediately Simon sensed the difference in the morphing shadows. They thickened and merged, forming a large, darkened mass.

"Vixie," Simon called in warning.

"I see it," she replied quickly, her aimed fixed on the hulking shadow. Jace came out from behind the column to stand beside Simon, his blade twirling in his ready hand.

"What is that thing?" He asked Simon, but the vamp didn't answer right away. Simon continued to stare into the forming black abyss, trying to decipher the energy that he was reading off of it in waves of heated hatred and vengeance.

Quickly, the shape began to solidify. Several large arms with taloned claws came ripping out of the black mass as it roared in furry from a mouth unseen. Vixie let off a shot aimed directly where a beating heart should lie, but the sharply tipped rod just sailed through the creature as if it was made of smoke.

"What now?" she asked from her perch. Simon and Jace shrugged in answer, and she made her way closer to them to lend her assisstance.

"It's not moving," Jace observed. "Let's see if we can make our way around it." He ventured across the line only partially, Simon and Vixie watching with bated breath as he did so. They were both ready to offer him aid if needed, but so far, the shadow remained unmoving, just it's wispy arms moving around like leaves blowing on a large tree.

Once Jace had completely crossed the line, everything changed. Immediately, the line became a full-blown barrier, casting an invisible wall that closed off Simon and Vixie. Neither one of them were able to gain access to the other side, stopped short by an impenetrable obstruction. They watched helplessly as the shadow began to gain substance, a large mouth full of razor sharp teeth gathered in it middle. The thing roared at Jace, and began swiping towards him with heavy claws.

Jace leapt out of the way, barely avoiding a mortal blow to his chest. He retorted the attack with a swipe of his blade, severing one flailing arm from the darkened body. The limb fell to the ground with a thud, and for a moment, the creature stood motionless as if it was trying to process what had happened to its amputated appendage.

Jace didn't pause in his actions. With a blur of movement, he began to systematically destroy the shadowed beast. Both arms worked in synchronization in order to dismantle the creature, ripping and slicing arms and talons from any strategic point he could distinguish. It took only moments for the creature to become irate at Jace's actions, and then it started to fight back.

With a resounding roar, the beast pounced onto Jace, knocking them both onto the ground. It made an attempt the gorge its teeth into the side of Jace's neck, but Jace was able to wedge his feet between the beast and himself, using every bit of strength he could muster in order to push the crushing force off of him. The creature stumbled back only a few paces, then started his attack again. New limbs began to spring from the monster's body, all reaching to capture Jace in a stronghold but unable to find their purchase. Jace was scrambling from the ground, attempting to move himself as far away as he could. He stood on shaky legs, watching the shadowed monster carefully.

The beast seemed to grow in girth as the shadows within the room congregated toward the beast. Jace watched as the darkened shapes moved and crept along the walls and down the floor, pooling at the beasts feet as if he were some sort of sponge, sopping up all the remnants of darkness in the room. The thing grew to massive proportions, leaving only the barest of space for Jace to maneuver.

"Jace," Vixie screamed. "I don't think we can get through the barrier until you destroy it!"

"How?" Jace asked with widened eyes. In the background, he could hear the anguished screams of his beloved, but there was no way around the monster. He'd have to fight his way through.

The burning inside his chest began to amplify to a painful level. He could feel the heat rising into his face, clouding his vision on the peripheries so all he could focus on was his enemy before him. A strange sense of ease came with that heated burn, and Jace began to see a clear plan of attack in front of him.

He noticed that his enemy's flailing limbs seemed to guard a small spot on the beast's body. It was hard to decipher at first, but with his new found focus, Jace could make out the tiny point of vulnerability, perhaps its Achilles heel. Subconsciously, something inside Jace was able to identify his enemy's hidden secret of weakness, and all he needed to do was fight like hell to reach it.

With a gut wrenching war cry, Jace leapt toward the monster with his blades held high. At the same moment, the creature bayed towards the ceiling, the sound causing the walls to vibrate and crack at the thunderous force.

All his training and hard work, the amount of time Jace had put in towards becoming a well-rounded Nephilium warrior, merged together in that moment. His strikes were sure, his force unyielding. But there was something different about the way he fought the monster. He was focused on one specific target: the point of vulnerability he'd identified. Every other action to get him to that goal seemed mechanical, rehearsed. No matter how many times the monster swung a sharpened claw at Jace's soft flesh, his blade was there to block the attack. Limbs were dismembered, the blackened meat of the monster gouged and ripped apart by his blurred motions, and still he remained focused on his task.

Once his way was cleared, evidenced by the countless stumps of foul-smelling flesh, Jace plunged his black-coated blade deep within the creature's chest, directly over his weak spot. At once, the creature howled in agony. Its body devolved into a blackened smoke, the substance of it melting away back into the shadows. Jace watched as the small particles of black receded into the darkness all around him. Immediately, the barrier fell between Jace and the others, and Vixie made her way to him to check him for injuries.

"You alright?" she asked quickly, her eyes roaming over his body to see any immediate signs of harm.

"Yeah," Jace answered with a panted breath.

"That thing was huge, Jace. How did you manage to kill it?" Vixie found a deep laceration on his left tricep, and she quickly tore a strip of material from Jace's shirt to use as a pressure bandage.

"I don't know," Jace answered, hissing slightly as Vixie tied the dressing down. "And I don't care how I did it. We have to get to Clary. I could hear her screaming as I fought that damned thing."

"It's not gone," Simon observed stoically, his eyes narrowed and fixed on the darkened corners of the room. "I can still feel its presence."

"What is it?" Vixie asked, pulling a small bottle of blessed water from her pocket to douse the bandage on Jace's arm. If that thing had been a demon, most likely its claws were laced with poison. She didn't want to take any chances, and holy water rarely had side effects when treated like an antiseptic.

"It was..." Simon trailed off, not able to put a name to the darkness that stalked them. "I'm not sure, but I don't think this fight is over. Let's get out of here before that thing re-materializes."

Simon grabbed Jace's glowing seraph blade from the middle of the room, his eyes glancing quickly between all the shadowed places where their evil enemy awaited. He was so focused on his vigil that he didn't realize he'd picked up the Nephilium metal until Vixie pointed it out.

"Simon, you're touching an angel blade," she said with a slight panic.

"So?" Simon asked, not meeting her stricken face as he remained adamant about his constant visual on the shadows.

"Those blades are only meant for the Nephilium to carry," she clarified quickly. "They burn Downworlders if we touch it."

Both Jace and Vixie stared at Simon for several moments, looking for any signs of distress or pain coming from the hand clenching the blade. Simon looked pensive for a moment, then he shrugged his shoulders and handed Jace the blade.

"Maybe I'm not a Downworlder any longer," Simon said noncommittally as he watched Jace sheath the weapon. "It doesn't matter, and we don't have time to ponder it. I can feel the darkness reforming. Let's get out of here. Now!"

Quickly, the trio jumped down from the platform and raced down the darkened channel toward the sounds of continued whimpering and snarling. Simon could smell the trail of Clary's blood leading their way. He didn't tell Jace as much, but as they ventured further into the tunnel, the amount of blood increased tenfold. He also failed to mention that he could sense the darkness Jace had fought on the platform encasing them from behind, almost like a veil closing them into whatever danger lie ahead.

It was Vixie who noticed the subtle change in the atmosphere, and she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the figure form from her furthermost periphery. Slowly, she turned her head. Behind them stood a wall of shadowed figures that began snarling and growling as she studied them. Although she couldn't make any specifics out, she knew that they needed to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

"Simon," Vixie called on a high-pitched chirp, but she didn't know that the others had stopped moving the same time that she did. Before she could understand what was happening, Simon had scooped her up into his arms and began sprinting down the subway in a blur of speed, Jace following his pace.

"Shoot them," Simon told her calmly as he ran. Vixie maneuvered herself in Simon's arms so that she had her long legs wrapped around his chest. Simon held her right under her bottom, creating a sturdy seat where Vixie sat perched, her head a couple inches above his. She began to shoot her crossbow, the spike-tipped rods making whizzing sounds as she pulled the trigger right by Simon's ear. He kept his movements as steady as possible so that Vixie could keep a good aim, but she was a very skilled marksman, and her targets were taken with stealth and precision.

"Down here," Simon cried as the tunnels bifurcated, taking the southernmost passageway; Jace followed him without question. At the end of the corridor, Jace could see a faint light. He picked up his pace, the urgency flowing through him like fire in his veins.

Finally, they arrived at the end of the tunnel. It bridged out into a large room resembling an ancient mausoleum. The ceilings were arched, the walls constructed of moldy, decaying brick. Several columns held the structure up, breaking as the heavy weight bore down on their ancient castings.

Jace gasped as he saw a dark figure held aloft on the brick wall. Its arms were held out wide, its feet bound together at the ankle. Deep streams of crimson were pouring of its every orifice, making it seem as if the wall were weeping a bloody river; the flesh of it marred and tattered, making its identification near impossible.

But Jace knew....he'd always know....

It was Clary.

"No," his anguished voice whispered as he stared at the still form of his beloved. His soul mate, his life mate stayed unmoving on her morbid perch against the wall. The blasphemous positioning of her body did not go unnoticed by him.

He moved to free her body, wanting to touch her desperately, but a cold, hard hand clamped down on his shoulder, preventing him from moving any further.

"Leave her be," Simon said calmly, setting Vixie down on her feet. The Fey threw her empty crossbow to the ground and began arming herself with blades and throwing rings. She faced the darkness closing in on their position like a vigilant warrior as the two men argued heatedly. "She's safe where she is."

"Safe?" Jace asked with unbridled fury. He pushed himself away from Simon, causing the other to falter a couple steps before he regained his balance; it was a sign of Jace's strength and anger, for it was not easy to get the better of Simon these days. Jace made his way towards Clary, the raging sobs pouring from his chest as he fought to get to her side. But Simon stopped him again, trying to hold the avid warrior from reaching his beloved. "Simon, she's dying – could be dead, unless I get her down now," Jace argued, not wanting to listen to Simon's logic.

"It's an illusion, Jace," Simon clarified as his hands clamped down on Jace. He spun the boy around so he could look at him with a steady gaze. Jace curbed his panic for one moment so he could gauge Simon's rationale. "Don't ask me how I know, it just is. Clary is alive, I can sense her life force."

"So you want me to go off your new found Jedi senses?" Jace asked, incredulous. "What if your vibes are wrong, man? What if Clary is bleeding to death as we speak and you stopped me from saving her?"

"Some of the blood is real," Simon agreed quickly. "But not all. It smells tainted, fake some how. The illusionist is close by; I can feel her."

"Her?" Vixie asked, but Simon didn't get the opportunity to divulge.

A soft, tinkling laugh resounded around the room at Simon's words, the echo of it seeming to come from all sides of the chamber. The trio began looking around the area with sharp, steady glances.

"Wow," Katia smiled widely, stepping out from behind a gray column. Three heads snapped in her direction. "I'm impressed, my little bloodsucker. I knew there was something special about you from the first moment I saw you."

"The witch," Vixie gasped, horrified.

"In the flesh, my dear," Katia smiled.

"How did you survive?" Jace asked on a whispered breath, not really expecting an answer. Images of the incredible light Clary produced in the foyer of St. Patrick's poured through Jace's mind. He remembered watching – although slightly disoriented – as Clary managed to cast a high-powered beam of energy that had completely severed the three Children of Lilith in half, leaving their bodies in a pool of crimson blood.

"You don't understand the power I wield, my little Angel Boy," Katia sneered. "I could destroy the three of you with a mere yawn."

"So get it over with," Simon said calmly, unaffected, as if her threat held no clout with him. "If you're so powerful, why are we still talking?"

"You dare to mock me?" Katia growled in fury. "You will see how much strength I carry." She held her hands high above her hand as an ancient, guttural language came pouring from her mouth. Her eyes were alight as she spoke each stanza with conviction. The wall trembled and stone pebbles rolled at their feet.

"Nice one, Simon," Vixie grumbled as she braced herself, feet held wide apart. "Why did you have to piss her off?"

"I was tired of the theatrics," Simon answered stoically, watching Katia carefully. "And we're running out of time."

"What do you mean?" Jace asked quickly.

"I said only part of the blood was Clary's," Simon clarified, his gaze still fixed on Katia. "She is injured severely, just not as bad as she appears."

"You son of a bitch —" Jace growled, ready to give Simon an ass-kicking for stopping him from rescuing Clary beforehand, but the shriek of Vixie's voice cut him off short.

"Look!" she cried, pointing in the direction of Katia. The shadows along the wall were creeping toward her, gathering around her like some kind of dark halo. They circled and undulated until they formed a dark cloud, little bolts of lightening illuminating it from within.

With one last powerful stanza, Katia's eyes flew open leaving only the glowing whites visible. She shot her hands forward in a thrusting motion, and the dark cloud bolted across the air as if she'd thrown it. The mass of black whizzed by them, crashing into the sea of darkness behind them. As if the cloud had given them power, the dark figures began to solidify into decaying bodies, reanimated for death and destruction.

"Zombies," Vixie cursed as her fist clenched around her blade.

"No," Simon argued quickly. "Not zombies; those are dead bodies possessed by a dark warlock. These are something much worse."

"What are they?" Jace asked as the creatures approached slowly.

"I'm not sure," Simon answered, his voice revealing a hint of trepidation, which was rare for him since his second changing. "I don't sense anything from them. Not a darkened soul, not life, nothing. It's like they are void, blank; nothing but darkness."

"Can they be killed?" Jace asked quickly.

"Let's see," Vixie replied as she flung a small throwing star straight at one of the oncoming corpses. The tip of it pierced the head, slicing through it soundly. On impact, the creature screamed in protest, then dissipated into a black mist.

"This shouldn't be hard," Vixie mused with a shrug, but just as she said that, the mist began to regather a couple feet away, and the drooling corpse was solidified once again. "Shit. Spoke too soon."

"I don't think they'll disappear until the witch is dead," Simon said quickly. "There's an energy trail connecting the two of them; I can barely make it out, but it's there."

"So what do we do?" Vixie asked quickly.

"You two fight these things, I'll handle the witch," Jace answered gruffly, but Simon stopped him just as he turned towards Katia.

"No," Simon argued. "You two are the better fighters. Keep these things distracted and I'll take out the witch." Jace shot a glare at Simon but he continued. "Trust me, Jace. I have to be the one to do this." Jace struggled with the knowledge that there was something deeper in Simon, something they had yet to understand. He glanced toward Clary and back to Simon before nodding in agreement.

"Be careful," Vixie warned Simon before she and Jace turned to face the rush of decaying corpses. As if they'd been waiting for their engagement, the bodies of the damned began rushing toward Vixie and Jace, baring razor sharp claws and teeth.

Vixie fisted three golden rings in her hand and flung them towards the onslaught simultaneously. They arched out into three separate lines, slicing through the heart of the attackers on both sides and through the middle. A puff of darkened mist formed as the bodies of those hit disappeared, only to reform into two more bodies, their numbers doubled.

Jace leapt into the middle of them, his blade slicing downward as several bodies dissolved into nothing. He arched backwards, almost far enough for his head to hit the ground as a creature came sailing over him in attempt to take the warrior down. His long blade went slicing through the air in a circular motion, sending about a dozen of the bodies into an ashen cloud. He worked tirelessly to stave off the corpses, lunging, dodging, and ripping, only for each to duplicate as they reformed.

Simon approached Katia wearily, his eyes narrowed as he studied her closely. The witch seemed to be in a sort of trance, her body swaying side to side like a macabre pendulum. He wasn't fooled, though; he knew that if he tried to attack her, she'd be ready for him. So instead, he watched her; trying to gauge her disadvantage, any evident weakness or frailty.

"I'm surprised you're here, actually," Katia said softly, her eyes remaining glossed over in a white film, not giving any hint that she'd spoken.

"And why's that?" Simon asked calmly, his focus on Katia becoming more intense at her odd behavior.

"Because, I thought you would have been overtaken by now."

"Overtaken?" Simon asked flatly. "That's an interesting choice of words. What do you mean by that?"

"I mean I can sense the cloud of darkness around you," Katia answered, her eyes opening to mere slits as she watched him intently. "It moves and undulates just beyond your senses, waiting for an opportunity to take you out. Like me, they can see the light within you as if it radiates from your core. But I also see that yours is a luminescence that can only be squashed by the darkest of Shades."

"Hmm," Simon hummed, not wanting to divulge in Katia's distraction methods. As she spoke, Simon could sense the string of darkened energy she was pulling towards her, amplifying her power so that she could muster an assault against him, even as her powers were divided to control her deadened, soulless minions. "I guess you think I'm stupid," he said lightly.

"On the contrary," Katia mused with a light giggle. "I find you more than adequate."

"Adequate for you? Hardly," Simon replied with a smile. The gesture was only a way of allowing Katia to think he was playing into her hand, but Simon was much too aware for such a mundane trick. He could sense the ball of darkness behind her, hear the shifting energy in the atmosphere, but most importantly, he could see the flash of morbid evil in Katia's eyes that signified her accordance with the most deadened, loathsome beings of the planet, the Kajola.

Simon was ready when Katia struck at him, sending a bolt of blackened light toward him with the force of ten freight trains. The impact on the ground – right where Simon had stood only milliseconds prior – was catastrophic, turning the smallest of molecules gray and ashen, changed to lifeless stone.

The witch – amplified by the raw power the Kajola had granted her – stared curiously at the blank spot, surprised she did not see Simon lying dead upon the ground. Her eyes flashed all around her, seeking out her one formidable opponent.

The first time she'd seen Simon, she recognized what he was immediately: a Light. Only those made from Heaven's design had that certain aura of light around them, and Simon was loaded with that pure essence. He was different, however, because the light did not just encompass him; it _was_ him, illuminated from his every cell and pore.

Only on later reflection did Katia realize that he could possible be the only wrench in her plan. The only thing she had going for her was that it seemed he had no clue as to what he was. Therefore, he had no way of knowing how to use his special gifts in order to destroy her.

She should have known that some things that come innately are triggered in situations of mortal peril. She should have realized that just because Simon was naive currently, did not mean that he would remain so. And she should have known that a Shade did not stand a chance against Heaven's Light.

When she found him, he was already crouched to strike. Simon was perched on the high arched ceiling, his eyes glowing through the vivid blue irises. His skin was illuminated as if a solid beam of moonlight lay dormant inside his body, only to shine on the rarest of occasions. The light was blinding: beautiful and pure. The sight of him caused Katia to cringe in terror, cutting through the darkness as he lunged at her, teeth and claws barred.

It only lasted a minute, but the world shifted just the same. Simon took out the Shade with brutal force and precision. Once the head was severed, Katia's limp body fell lifeless to the floor. As if a vortex opened in the middle of the ground, the remnants of her body began to contort and crumble in on itself, recoiling all the darkened shadows that fueled the rotting corpses.

At once, the battle was over, the illusion ended. Several bodies of mundane men and women were scattered along the stone floors, broken and bleeding, dead. Clary remained nailed to the wall, a large spike through both her feet and hands. She was bleeding profusely, the cuts on her flesh turning swollen and bruised. Just the smallest of movements in her chest signified that she was still breathing; otherwise, she would have looked like the epitome of a torturous death.

Quickly, Simon climbed the wall using the barest of foot and finger holds among the cobbled stone inlays. He approached her wearily, removing the nails from her tattered flesh smoothly to avoid further damage. Once he had her free, Simon leapt from the wall, landing softly on the ground.

He looked for the other two, Vixie and Jace. He hadn't seen them since Katia had been destroyed, but he assumed they would be somewhere among the throng of bodies upon the ground.

He found Jace kneeling next to Vixie, her hand held tightly in his. She was grunting in pain, a large hole in her chest that spread to her neck, leaving a small amount of trachea visible. Luckily, just enough cartilage in her windpipe was left intact, giving her the ability to breathe. Her vocal cords were smashed, so she couldn't speak at all.

"Jace," Simon said softly, and the golden haired boy turned to look at Simon with sorrowful eyes. He only glanced at him for a moment, just long enough for it to register that Simon had Clary in his arms. Immediately, Jace went to her, taking her limp and broken body from Simon. He wrapped his arms around her, careful not to aggravate the countless wounds on her fragile, tiny body.

"What happened to Vixie?" Simon asked as he bent to check her wounds, the edges were turning a dark shade of black. Poison; Simon could smell it mixing in her blood.

"She was being stupid," Jace spat as he placed a gentle kiss on Clary's bloodied forehead. "Tried to get between me and the ghouls."

"They weren't ghouls," Simon observed, looking at the bodies of New York's everyday citizens lying dead on the ground. "They were mundanes. Must have been another one of Katia's illusions."

"The fighting and brutality were real," Jace argued. "I've got the cuts to prove it. Those were not mundanes that took a chunk out of Vixie either."

"Let's get them home," Simon said, not wanting to prolong their recovery any longer. He had a strange feeling about the events of the day. Besides Katia's revenge on Clary, there seemed to be a greater force at work than just the sadistic workings of a madwoman.

As Jace carried Clary's tattered body back to the Institute, his anger and hatred towards himself grew with every step. His eyes were locked on Clary, memorizing every scratch, every injury into his brain so that he would never forget what his existence did to her. It was his fault she suffered those wounds, his fault that she was tortured and mutilated. He would never forgive himself for causing her that pain, and in his mind, he formulated a plan so that would never happen again.

* * *

**AN: The next chapter is the last one, so make sure you add me to the author alerts, that way you'll know when the sequel begins. **

**The Zombie thing: so I wrote that bit about Simon saying that zombies were dead bodies possessed by an evil warlock because I thought that's what Ms. Clare said in the books, but my beta MsMayfly reminded me that she only said something about them being down south where witchcraft was more prevalent. So now, I think I'm getting my fandoms confused. (that's what happens when you read too much.) I have an idea where that came from, but I want to see if I'm right. So, the person who can tell me where that idea came from get not only a bonus sneak peek at the next chapter, but will also be _the first to preview the first three chapters of the sequel__!_**

**As always, reviewers get previews!!!**


	35. Chapter 33 Warrior's Lament

**AN: I want to take a moment to say a BIG thanks to all the readers that have followed me from the beginning. Not many people know this, but I started my hobby of creative writing when I lost my son last May. I had so desperately needed an outlet for...life...and this has been a blessing, really. So, thank you for allowing me to share this story with you, and I hope you will all continue to read my other stories. **

**Til then, live for life my friends. **

**~ Emily**

Chapter 33 – Warrior's Lament

Jace couldn't help it, he was worried. He was petrified that things were permanently altered and there was no way anyone could fix it.

And it was his fucking fault.

She wasn't waking up, but Jace thought that was the least of Clary's problems. In fact, he was thankful that she was oblivious at the moment, for several reasons.

First, Magnus had been trying desperately to repair Clary's numerous lacerations but had been unable to mend them appropriately. They were magically enhanced, keeping the bloody edges separated despite Magnus' efforts. To make it worse, the countless wounds across Clary's skin were not only covering every inch on her outside, but were also marring her within. Magnus said that she was suffering internal bleeding because all her organs were covered in tiny cuts as well. He was able to replenish her as he attempted to heal her, but not make any progress. The pain would have been excruciating, but with the loss of blood, Clary had fallen unconscious.

The second reason Jace was thankful Clary was out was that she'd be incredibly embarrassed by her current nudity. It couldn't be helped at the moment. As Magnus tried to heal her, Clary continued to bleed profusely. The blood oozed from her body and saturated the clothes she was wearing in the subway. By the time they had reached the Institute, some of the blood had dried, making her clothing stick to the lacerations. When Isabelle and Maryse tried to remove Clary's clothing, the fibers were stuck to her cuts, causing them to widen as they were removed. That was the only time Clary showed any pain because she groaned in discomfort when they did it. They had tried to place a thin sheet on top of her body, but the blood had quickly soaked through the material.

The final reason Jace was glad Clary was unaware was the fact that her mother lie in the next bed, broken and clinging to life herself. Luke was there next to her, watching her intently. Jace could tell that Luke was incredibly concerned about Clary as well, for he'd ask about her prognosis frequently, but his eyes would never leave Jocelyn's still frame. Whether that was because he couldn't bring himself to look at Clary in her current condition – naked and bleeding copiously – or because his main focus was Jocelyn, Luke was a broken man. His features were lined with worry and stress, and his voice was low and gravelly, cracking with emotion when he did manage to speak.

Luckily, Isabelle had managed to find Magnus quickly after Luke had brought Jocelyn back to the Institute. The entire building that housed Luke's pack had completely been destroyed when Katia's hidden bomb decimated the structure, leaving several Weres injured. Jocelyn, being the only victim that did not have incredibly fast healing abilities, suffered the worst of the impact. And it didn't help that she was the one to find Maia's body, thereby triggering the blast in the first place. Luke was fortunate to find her as soon as he did, otherwise she may not have survived.

When Magnus had arrived, he found Isabelle placing _iratze_ runes on Jocelyn's body, hoping to close some of the major wounds, and for the most part, her quick efforts had helped. But like Clary's wounds, Jocelyn's were also magically enchanted to stay open. The spell that was laced with the explosives was not as potent as the one used against Clary, but it did offer Magnus quite the challenge at first. He was just making headway on Jocelyn's injuries when the Institute doors slammed open, the hurried footsteps of Simon and Jace stormed into the Infirmary. Now, all of Magnus' efforts were focused on Clary stability, leaving Jocelyn in a sort of limbo between healing and succumbing to her injuries.

And Magnus was fading quickly. The amount of energy he was expending trying to keep Clary alive was incredibly taxing. He had said several times that she needed a blood transfusion, but they were unable to penetrate her skin with a needle in order to provide her replacement intravenously. It was only a matter of time before Magnus was spent, and there was no telling what would happen to Clary when he was.

"Can we call in reinforcements?" Jace asked as he watched Magnus' focused expression show the first signs of lethargy.

"Stacy is on his way," Alec said from the corner. Jace, who'd been so focused on Clary, noticed for the first time that Alec and Isabelle sat in the corner of the room, neither talking or moving. Their postures were solemn as the exchanged glances between Jace and Clary's bleeding form. "He's bringing five members of the hierarchy to help aid Magnus."

"Why so many?" Isabelle asked softly, streaks of tears shimmering on her face in the soft light the lamps provided.

"The training Magnus has done with the Book of White has made him very powerful," Alec explained in hushed tones. "It will take that many to supplement his efforts."

"What about Vixie?" Isabelle asked as she wiped fresh tears from under eyes. Every time she looked at Clary, the tears would pool in her lids. The girl she came to regard as her sister was lying in tatters, practically unrecognizable. Even when she looked at Jocelyn, she was reminded that Maia was gone and the tears would start anew.

"They should be back soon," Alec replied. "She will be fine after some rehabilitation." Maryse and Robert had helped Simon take Vixie back to the Seelie Court after Magnus had said she'd heal quicker with the Queen's aid. Simon carried her while Maryse and Robert served as liasons, in case the Queen became irate that Vixie had been injured.

She wouldn't tell anybody – especially with current company and circumstances considered – but Isabelle was extremely nervous about Simon. She didn't like him addressing the Queen without her; having to explain what had happened to cause her favored warrior to be injured. Although the Queen was their ally, she was known to be vastly cruel and vengeful, a fact that was evidenced time and time again.

And there was a certain ache in her chest that had appeared the moment Simon left with Jace to go rescue Clary. It had only got worse as the hours dragged on; their separation had been longer than any time since they'd mated. It fueled her desire to be with him, and although she was deeply concerned for her fallen comrades, her need for Simon was almost like a perverse panic attack, undulating and boiling under her surface and she was barely able to hold it at bay.

Just then, Clary shifted from her coma. It was barely a flicker of her finger, but it drew the attention of everyone in the room.

"Clary?" Jace asked, reaching once again for her bloodied hand. He'd done it before — mostly out of a reflexive need to touch her body in any way possible — but like the previous times, Clary's face grimaced as Jace's skin touched her, causing the lacerations to spread open and ooze.

"Fuck!" Jace growled in frustration as he pulled his hand back quickly. He balled his hands in tight fists and began running them down his thighs in agitation. "I can't take this any longer. She shouldn't be like this, damn it. I failed her."

"Jace," someone said in a calming tone, but Jace didn't have the wits about him to process it. His vision was bleary with fresh tears as he stared at Clary, the angry lines gouged into her face splinting as her expression became pained. He was becoming crazed with need to take that pain away from her. He'd gladly suffer through it, ten times worse of it for all of eternity if it meant only a minute of reprieve for his beloved.

"Jace, you can't blame yourself," the voice tried again, but it only made Jace's rage boil further.

"The fuck I can't," he growled, angry tears running in streams down his heated face. "It was my job. I was the one responsible for her. And now she's lying here..._suffering..._and I can't do a damn thing about it."

"She will live, Jace," Isabelle said through a heavy sob. "You have to believe that."

"What I have to _believe_ is that whatever mother fucker is responsible for her pain will die by my hand," he spat. It was a promise and a curse. He'd die before Clary suffered through any torment again. "I will make them suffer. I will make them bleed..."

"But Katia is dead, Jace," Isabelle tried to reason. He could hear her get up from her seat and approach him from behind, but he didn't turn to look at her.

"I'm not talking about that bitch," Jace growled. "I'm talking about who ever hired her. The fucking psycho whose been stalking Clary for months."

"Jace," Isabelle said, her voice shaking with emotion. She was terrified; not because she thought Clary would die. She knew deep down that Clary had the will of an ox – she'd fight through anything and come out laughing on the other end. She was scared because she knew her brother – knew how he'd take on Clary's injuries as his own and how he'd move heaven and earth to see that it never happened again. She knew that he'd leave her to battle the enemy himself if that were what it would take to keep Clary safe, despite how stupid and fool hearty that would be.

"I know you are upset. I know you want them to suffer, but we need to think about this. We need to work together, otherwise —" but she was interrupted by the sound of the Infirmary door creaking open.

Simon walked through the door and immediately went to Isabelle. He wrapped her in his arms just as the heavy weight that was his absense melted away from her heart.

"How is she?" Simon asked into Isabelle's silken hair. She didn't answer, for she felt Simon go stiff as he looked at Clary on the blood-soaked bed. Isabelle pulled back to take in Simon's expression, ready to offer him support and reassurance; she knew that it would be hard for him to see his best friend dying on the bed. But she was pulled up short by the feral look on Simon face. The intensity of it alarmed her, and she took a reflexive step back from him.

Simon was frozen where he stood, his gaze locked on Clary. It wasn't the fact that she was covered in crimson fluid that triggered a bloodlust in Simon, leaving him in a sort of frenzied daze. And it wasn't the fact that the girl he'd pinned for since puberty was lying completely nude in front of him that caused him to stare. It was the soft glow that emanated from Clary's circular wounds in her hands and feet that piqued his interest, acting as some sort of beacon to Simon's innermost core. A light shining in a sea of red.

"What is that?" Simon asked in a clipped tone.

"It's Clary, Simon," Isabelle answered, her brows furrowed in concern as she watched Simon slowly approach Clary's bedside.

"No," Simon replied quickly. "That." He was pointing at the round wounds, trying to make sense out of what he was seeing.

"The witch made those holes so she could hang Clary on the wall," Isabelle clarified softly, not wanting her voice to reach Jace. She didn't want to remind him of what Clary had gone through so as not to fuel his fire any further.

"I know that. I was there, remember?" Simon said, frustrated. It was rare that he showed any emotion besides his serene disposition, so Isabelle was a little taken aback by how abrupt Simon was being. She brushed it off because of the current situation.

"I want to know why the wounds are glowing," Simon asked through gritted teeth.

"Glowing?" Jace asked, confused. "Nothing is glowing. She's bleeding, Simon."

"No," Simon argued, his voice becoming harsh. "No, those damned wounds are glowing. They are becoming brighter by the minute, can't you see that?"

"Baby," Isabelle said softly as she placed her hands on Simon's shoulders comfortingly. "The wounds aren't glowing. I think you're tired. Why don't we go lay down for a while—"

"No!" Simon yelled, startling Isabelle and causing Magnus to take notice. He'd been deep in his healing trance, focusing only on Clary so that he could channel every bit of energy possible onto her. "I know what the fuck I'm looking at. Can't you see it? It's right fucking there!"

"The Stigmata," Alec whispered beside Isabelle. She hadn't notice that he'd approached her until then, but he was standing off to the side with his eyes locked on the place where Simon was pointing.

"The what?" Jace asked, confused and concerned.

"The Stigmata," Alec repeated. "I didn't notice before but Clary's wounds are similar to the wounds of Christ, Jace. Why didn't I recognize it before?"

"I know," Jace replied, not understanding why that was important. "That's because that bitch strung Clary up like that. She was trying to make a point about Clary's Angel blood, obviously."

"I think it goes deeper than that," Magnus replied, his voice strained and hoarse. "From what you described about the fight in the subway, I think Katia might have been a Shade."

"A what?" Jace asked, his voice sharp with frustration. "What are you talking about?"

"Katia said something about that," Simon agreed, his eyes still fixed on Clary's wounds. "But I still don't get what that means."

"Care to explain?" Jace growled at Magnus, but the warlock ignored him and watched Simon pensively.

"I don't believe it," Magnus said softly as he gazed at Simon in wonder. "I thought they were pure myth; no evidence has ever been found."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jace growled, rising to his feet as he looked quickly between Magnus and Simon, the latter still staring at Clary intently.

"He's a Light," Magnus answered in an awed tone. "I don't understand it, but I think he can help Clary."

"How?" Luke asked, watching the grouping standing over Clary's bed with tired eyes.

"I'm not sure," Magnus answered, looking at Clary's Stigmata with investigative eyes, trying to see what Simon was seeing. He could make out a vague difference in these injuries. He'd noticed in it before but he'd attributed the difference to the fact that they were not caused by the witch's spell. Now he was looking at them with a more critical eye and he could see a faint trace of residual energy that lingered around the wound bed.

"I need..." Simon said, trailing off in a strained voice. His posture was rigid and he had a pained look on his face, as if he was fighting some strong urge to feast on a forbidden fruit.

"What?" Magnus asked as he watched Simon struggle. "What do you need?"

"I need...to touch..." Simon whispered. He reached toward Clary's body as if he was being magnetically drawn to her. The look on his face was fierce, almost needy. Jace didn't like it one bit.

"Don't!" he growled, stepping in front of Simon so that he could stop whatever the crazed vampire had his mind set on. Before he could cement himself into place, Simon's outstretched hand shoved Jace, sending his body flying across the room in a whirl of motion.

"Simon!" Isabelle cried, reaching out her own restraining hands. She knew that no matter how crazed or feral Simon was, he wouldn't hurt her. Despite her efforts, however, Simon did not comply. He barreled toward Clary once again, his focus intent on the burning need inside him to perversly touch her dripping wounds. Not to feed, not to sate, only a desire to dig the cursed light from her body raged inside him. And no one would stop him from meeting his goal.

In a blink of an eye, Simon was standing above Clary staring down on her body with a rapt attention. His arms were trembling, his hands balled into tight fists. He could hear Isabelle calling to him, but he didn't care. He could see Jace out of the corner of his eye come to and start to charge him, but he didn't react. He simply reached out to the softly glowing light that was piercing through his mind like a laser beam, shining oddly from Clary's reddened skin. He needed to squelch it before it destroyed his brain cells and caused him to go mad.

Before anyone could stop him, before Simon could logically think about what he was doing, the mutated vampire reached out his hand and pressed his pale finger deep into Clary's Stigmata. Immediately, Clary's body shuttered at his contact. An odd light seemed to begin deep within Simon's core. It illuminated his skin so that he looked like a giant glowworm, just as it did when he'd transformed, and just like it had when he'd destroyed Katia down in the subway tunnels.

At this point, everyone was stunned at what they were seeing, silently watching as Simon's eyes closed tightly, a euphoric smile on his face. As soon as he'd touched Clary, the searing pain inside his head had stopped completely. He could feel the weird sense of serenity he'd felt after he'd mated with Isabelle, the same strange sense of calm that had come with his conversion back into the Veritas Lamina, seep through his veins. It was congregating toward the finger that was resting inside of Clary's wounds, heating and stirring until it made the final leap into Clary's body.

The light left Simon and surged into Clary. When that happened, Clary's body arched off the bed. Her eyes were still closed, but her face held a pained grimace. The light caused her skin to turn an odd shade of vivid pink. There was so much blood covering ever surface of her that it was hard to tell what was going on underneath all the crimson.

"What did you do?" Jace growled, coming toward Simon when he saw Clary contort and writhe in agony. He made a movement to dislodge Simon from Clary, but he was stopped by a very exhausted Magnus.

"He's helping her, Jace," Magnus said, his hand clamped down on Jace's forearm. For a man so fruity as Magnus, he was exceptionally strong. Perhaps he was using some kind of spell to supplement his strength, but Jace wasn't able to break his hold nonetheless.

"He's hurting her," Jace spat. "Look at her." When the warlock didn't let him go, Jace whirled around to Alec. "Tell him to let me go."

Magnus laughed, "Yeah, like that's going to happen. Alec knows better than to tell me anything."

"Mag," Alec said softly. The warlock turned to give him a challenging eye. "What is going on?"

"I'm not sure," Magnus answered with a sigh. "But I think he is the only one who could help her. Katia's magic was fueled by deep evil. I knew she was one twisted bitch, but if she was truly a Shade, she was a different breed of nasty. That magic is especially strong, and few warlocks could defeat it."

"Was that why she was so strong at the cathedral?" Isabelle asked, standing behind Alec as he protectively kept his sister from approaching her life mate. He knew that Isabelle wanted to be next to him, but with Simon acting so feral, Alec had kept his sister next to his side.

"Yes, and no," Magnus replied. "Katia was strong at St. Patrick's, and there is no doubt that she was amped up by some wicked demon magic. But what Jace and Simon described in the tunnels was especially strong. To be able to import that amount of mundane victims into the subway and transform them into ghouls was exceptionally badass. Not to mention the spell she used to slice and dice Clary to bits; I can't get a hold on it. This reflects an old type of Magic that hasn't been seen in centuries. It consists of dark, demonic spirits that encompass thousands of years of pain and torment, fueled into what is known as Bone Magic. I don't know much about it, never really wanted to delve that deep into the forbidden." Magnus winked at Alec suggestively.

"So, why is Simon able to help her?" Isabelle asked as she watched Simon trance-like state.

"I think he might be a Light," Magnus replied. "They were beings blessed with Heaven's Light, the only creatures that were made of purity but bred on Earth. They were close to Angels, according to legend. But one hasn't been seen in recorded history. They were thought to have been concocted out of fairytales. What Katia did to Clary in the tunnels doesn't seem to be coincidental or some kind of political statement. The Stigmata has been known to be a blessed symbol of Christ's suffering on the cross. Perhaps that symbol placed on Clary by a servant of the damned strengthened the spell she used to torture her. I'm not sure, but it's odd that out off all of Clary's wounds, those would stand out to Simon."

"If we can't trust what he is doing, then why are we letting him touch her?" Jace growled. "It's not safe."

"We don't have a choice, Jace," Magnus replied, his face serious, more so than Jace had ever seen it. "I cannot help her."

"But, others are coming," Jace replied, exasperated. "Can't they help?"

"It would take five warlocks to attempt what I was doing," Magnus replied. "And still, I was slipping. The grip I had on her was fading, Jace. I don't think we would have been able to keep her with the living much longer, even if we had a dozen healers here. Her only hope is Simon."

"This is ridiculous," Jace said, raking his nails through his golden locks. He turned to Luke and saw the man staring blankly in Clary's direction. His eyes were glazed over with unshed tears. "Luke, please talk some sense."

"Jace," Luke said with a gravelly voice. "Let him try. I think we can all agree that we've seen some pretty crazy shit over the last couple months. Our world seems to have spun off its axis; nothing seems to make any sense. But I do know that if we lose Clary, we are doomed. Just let Simon be."

Jace turned to look at Clary once more. The wounds on her body were still oozing; splitting wider as she writhed under Simon's onslaught. She must be in agony, Jace thought as he watched her squirm and pant on the blood-soaked cot. Simon, however, looked incredibly euphoric as his fingertip dug into Clary's open flesh. He didn't understand what was going on, he couldn't stand watching Clary suffering while Simon seemed her blissful torturer. There was a sense of panic and agitation that was itching under his skin; crawling around like a nagging nuisance. He couldn't do nothing, standing there like some helpless bystander when Clary's life was on the line. But what could he do?

What had he done? Wasn't this his fault? Didn't he come to the conclusion deep within the tunnels that Clary's pain was completely and totally his doing? He'd let her down, he'd failed her. He could see how every aspect of this was his blame. But how could he fix it now?

He needed to keep her from anymore suffering. If Clary survived this, he wanted to make sure something like this never happened again. It was his responsibility to protect her, after all. He could go and find the maniac who kept coming after her. It would solve a lot of problems if that threat were just eliminated. And he was the one who could end it all.

Slowly, Jace backed away from Clary's side. He watched her as he left the room silently, quickly. Something inside him fought his resolve with every step he took, anchoring his soul where he knew he belonged: right next to Clary. But he needed to do this for her safety, so he pushed down the urges to stay and left the room.

In a sort of trance, Jace made his way to the Weapon Room. Without even bothering to change out of his bloody clothes, Jace loaded himself down with several seraph blades, a witchlight, and a stele. He made sure that his cell phone was left on the table; he didn't want anyone to be able to find him. This was something he needed to do on his own. It was his job; his responsibility the Angel had entrusted him with. And he'd see Clary safe, even if it were the final gift he could give her.

Jace left the Institute shortly after, walking onto the darkened streets of New York City in search for Clary's stalker. He felt his soul harden with every step he took away from Clary. He was setting out to rescue her freedom, but he was leaving his heart behind.

**AN: There is a small epilogue to follow this chapter, my friends. I know some of you were worried that I would pull a New Moon with this story. I promise you, there will be a _short_ seperation between our love birds. I will not write an entire book where they were apart. And, let's face it, Edward was a little emo with the whole thing. Jace is going to go kick some major ass :D And there is a _reason_ for the separation. **

**Big thanks to Crazy Daisy and MsMayfly for their stellar work. Send me some lovely reviews, my friends. Send this one off in style!**

**Reviews get previews for the Epilogue...**


	36. Epilogue

Epilogue – Three Months Later

She sat by her window watching the light coat of rain shimmy down the blurry glass. Her legs were pulled up underneath her as she stared out into the busy city streets. The warmth coming from the low fire in the hearth hardly touched her cool skin. Despite the fact that she was covered in a thick blanket and wearing heavy, oversized sweats, nothing could penetrate the bitter cold she felt. Nothing but him.

But he'd been gone for a while now with no sign of returning. She didn't understand it, couldn't wrap her mind around why he'd left her, but for now, she sat by the window waiting like the good woman she was.

She figured Jace went off to his self-proclaimed war, to battle the evil that had taken her into the darkness. She knew him well; Clary knew deep down in her soul that the only thing that would take Jace away from her was his overwhelming need to protect her. But what he didn't take into account was the fact that she'd needed him by her side in the last couple of weeks more than she needed to breathe.

Her recovery from Katia's attack had been brutal. Simon had managed to close the perverse wounds Katia had mockingly placed on Clary's body. When they had healed, her body began to slough off the spell keeping the rest of her lacerations raw. No one understood why Simon's touch had worked, but it did and it was very painful to say the least.

Clary had to heal like a Mundane. The rest of her wounds continued to burn and ache as her body mended. The _iratze_ runes the others tried to place on her just melted into her skin, dissipating before they could react. Once Clary was strong enough, she too began placing the healing rune on her skin. Since her runes were stronger than the others, the rest of them thought that her application would be better received.

Unfortunately, the traces of the rune seemed to melt away as soon as she finished drawing them. No one understood it; Magnus thought maybe it had something to do with Bone Magic. He'd prattled on and on about the dark spirits and such. He was currently investigating all he could on the deep, dark evils of the world. It made Clary a little uneasy knowing that Magnus was playing in the morbid stuff, but any information that would help her understand what had happened was a positive thing.

And Clary was all about small favors lately.

Her body was still incredibly sore and stiff, her skin etched with lined scabs across every inch of her. Above the physical pain was the emotional. When she woke to find that Jace had left – crept out of the room as she lay burning in agony on the Infirmary bed – she was devastated. Her first reaction was to be stunned. She didn't understand it, not thinking that he would leave her in any circumstance.

Then she became worried, trying to convince the others that they needed to go and find him. At first, Maryse and Robert agreed. They'd commissioned several scouting trips with the others to search the darkened streets, listening for rumors on Jace's whereabouts. But when they'd come up empty handed, Jocelyn surmised that Jace wouldn't be so foolish as to leave behind a trail for anyone to follow. He was nothing if not thorough.

When the others had called off the search, stating that Jace had his reasons for his absence, Clary became enraged. She was hurting inside and out, not having her partner with her to help her through it all. In fact, he was the cause for the majority of her worry. If he'd just stayed and waited for her to awaken so they could discuss his concerns...

But she knew Jace was never the one for rationality. Even when they'd first met, he was quick to jump the bullet, charging head first into the fray without a second thought.

So Clary waited, knowing it was only a matter of time until he returned. The problem was, she just didn't feel _right_ without him there. She quickly realized how much she depended on his presence once he was gone. She felt lost and alone; scared because no one else in the world could empathize with having the weight of the world on her shoulders...except for Jace. They both had been forced into this impossible situation and only had each other to rely on. With him gone, Clary didn't know where to turn, who to trust, or how to even breathe.

And the others depended on her just as much. Time was ticking along, counting down to the last moments until that final battle scene in Father Thomas' vision. Despite her aches and pains, Clary had begun training once more. The trainer from Alicante had finally arrived, serving as the team leader for the group. Once Vixie had recovered, they were all tested and tried for their strengths and weaknesses. The group was down a couple members, but the Clave was seeking replacements.

The elders had agreed that the mixed Downworlder and Shadowhunter team had been incredibly beneficial. The talents offered by each species couldn't be overlooked. In fact, the Clave raved about their efforts and abilities, stating that only a mixed team such as theirs had the ability to overcome any Greater Demonic threats. The Clave wasn't convinced about the validity of Father Thomas' visions, but they couldn't ignore the truth of Clary and Jace's origins. They were also in agreement that Clary's training and protection was of the utmost importance. Although there hadn't been another attack against her, they felt that she needed to be ready for anything. And with the mild reprieve, Clary was pushed into a heavy training load.

She wasn't able to physically battle yet, but her discovery that she could produce the effects of runes without even drawing them was a huge revelation. She attempted to duplicate the talent with little success, but she tried nonetheless. In fact, the strain of it was more daunting than actual physical sparring. It left her drained and exhausted. Coupled with her emotional stress, Clary had become a shadow of herself and it had only been a few months since he had left.

_Jace..._

Clary could feel the tears pooling once again in her eyes as she stared blankly into the streets, waiting futilely for her lost love to return home. She tried not to become bitter about his absence, but it was hard. He should have trusted her to be able to handle the pain of her wounds. He should have known that once she recovered, they could both find the bastard that had sent Katia after her together. Key word there was _together_.

Jace was always so damned arrogant. It would be so like him to think he could take out the threat alone.

_Typical..._

Clary sighed heavily, willing away the tears in her eyes. She heard someone enter her room but didn't bother looking. She knew who it was – the same person who'd always come looking for her: Simon.

"Hey, your door was unlocked..." Simon excused softly. Clary didn't answer, didn't even bother to turn toward him. She continued to stare out into the city, hoping that she'd finally see Jace strut toward the Institute. Before it seemed naturally possible, Clary felt Simon's warm hand on her back. She closed her eyes softly at the comforting gesture.

"Whatcha doing?" Simon asked, even though he knew damn well what Clary was doing. It was the same thing she'd done every fucking night since Jace had left. She was hopelessly standing guard, awaiting Jace's return like some pathetic welcome home party. Although lately, she didn't know if she'd hug him when he got home, or slap his arrogant face. She guessed it depend on his condition when he arrived. If he was injured...well, the slap could wait for later.

So, Clary didn't bother answering Simon's question. They both knew it was more rhetorical anyway. But she did look at him that moment, taking in how he was dressed in a gamer's tee, his old glasses sat lopsided on his face. Seeing Simon attempting to look like he was once was almost comical. He'd changed so much in the last year that it was odd to see him in his old clothing. It made Clary smile.

"Where are you off to?" she asked with a soft curve of her lips.

"I promised Eric that I'd go catch his freelance stuff tonight," Simon answered, scratching the back of his neck as she grimaced. Clary smiled, remembering the night that she went with Simon to watch Eric recite his shitty poetry. It was the same night that Jace had followed her, changing her life forever. She internally cringed as she thought of it and tried to focus back on her conversation with Simon.

"Not looking forward to it?" she asked with a forced grin.

"No, not really. But I promised and this is my first chance to go."

"Stimulating poetry doesn't sound like a good night?" Clary asked knowingly. Simon grinned.

"Not really looking forward to Eric's drabbles about..."

"Loins," they both answered simultaneously with a small chuckle. It was a moment before they spoke again, both lost in remembering a time that felt like a century ago. It was Simon who finally brought them back to the present.

"Aiden wants to meet in the sparring room at seven thirty tomorrow," Simon said softly. "He asked me to come give you the heads up. He thinks you're ready to start training..."

Clary nodded, returning his focus back to the streets. She didn't comment on Simon's news; she knew this day was coming soon, for her injuries were manageable enough. It didn't change the fact that it bothered her to have to train without Jace by her side. He'd been with her throughout her training, and although she had an overwhelming urge to fight once more, she craved his presence in all things but this most of all.

"He'll be back, Clary. It's only a matter of time."

"I know," she replied softly. "I just can't help but feel lost without him. What would you do if Isabelle went missing?" she asked, looking at Simon imploringly. There was a strange flash of color in Simon's vividly blue eyes at Clary's question; it made her feel immediately uncomfortable. But just as fast as it appeared, Simon's features softened as he answered.

"That's not possible," Simon responded. "My bond with Izzy is completely different, Clary. She wouldn't be able to leave me, physically or emotionally. We are two parts of a whole, literally. So, I can't imagine how it would feel for us to be separated. I think the world would be in danger if that ever did happen..." he trailed off, saying the last part in a soft whisper that Clary had difficulty deciphering. She didn't ask him to clarify, however. She knew Simon spoke the truth. She could see the special link he had with Isabelle any time she saw them together. It was palpable, tangible, and it caused Clary's heart to ache for Jace anytime she was around them.

Seeing that his response caused Clary to retreat back into her inner musings, Simon stood slowly, bending over to place a light kiss on top of Clary's head, and stepped quietly out of the room.

She stared out into the night, thoughts of Jace in her mind. She physically ached for him, her body screaming for his. But there was not a damn thing she could do about it.

Wait...all she could do was wait.

She watched as a car zoomed down the street, an odd couple walking their little rat dog down the sidewalk. The weather was changing once more, signifying the beginnings of fall. Some people were wearing heavier clothing, some were still in shorts and tees. It just resembled another change without Jace present and it made her sad once more.

As the young girl watched from her bedroom window, he couldn't help but feel a strange pull towards her. It was odd how the large building shimmered and morphed in front of his eyes, almost like there was some kind of trickery involved. He was trying to make out the markings of the building, but was having a hard time of it through the pain shooting down his body. He held pressure on his gaping, weeping wound, feeling light headed as he stared at the orange-haired girl sitting in her softly lit window.

There was something inside of him that drew him here, despite the fact that he was gravelly injured. He didn't fight the inherent pull on his subconscious, only letting it take him to wherever his need be. His memories were hazy, darkened. The only thing that seemed familiar to him was the girl sitting at her window, seeming to be waiting for something...

**AN: Until this summer my friends, this it it for this story line. I have to say that I am extremely happy with the following of this story. You guys have been so awesome throughout it all. Supportive doesn't even begin to cover what my readers are... I am truly touched, honestly. **

**Big thanks to Crazy Daisy and MsMayfly. Both of them have graciously agreed to continue on to the sequel which is tentatively named Sins of the Flesh. I have to give them major props for picking up this story in the middle of all the chaos. Big hugs and smooches to them. **

**If you are wanting another MI fix while you wait for the sequel, I just started betaing a new MI fic called A Light Among Shadows by a-person-with-a-fanfiction. It only has two chapters posted, but we are working out the details for the story line. It's a really unique twist on what happened to Max before and after his supposed death. It's really well written and the storyline is unique. Check it out!**

**I will be focusing on Sing For Me Sweet from now until the summer. Come say hi to me in some reviews ;)**

**Thank you once again for all of you cherished words and support. Reviewers will get the prequel emailed to them by May 1st!**


	37. Update!

**Author's Note**

The sequel to Sins of the Father will be posted two weeks from today. Please make sure you put me on author alert so that you know when it is posted.

This story is going to be a wild ride, and I am looking forward to sharing it with the best reader's in the world.

See you soon, Emily


End file.
